


Who We Are

by shaylea



Series: Offering [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Consensual Kink, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deepthroating, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhibitionism, Family Issues, Friendship, Gags, Humiliation, Kink Discovery, Kink Negotiation, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Panic Attacks, Public Nudity, Rimming, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, figuring out life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24198874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaylea/pseuds/shaylea
Summary: Establishing a new life in New York at the same time as exploring a bdsm relationship with his boyfriend - it's Jensen's opportunity to make his dreams come true, and there's so much to experience and discover.  But reality sometimes poses challenges that fantasies do not, and there's a lot about himself that he'll have to confront.  As for Jared, having Jensen makes his life better than he ever imagined it could be.  Now he has to figure out how to keep it that way.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: Offering [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746493
Comments: 102
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (PLEASE NOTE: This fic is on temporary hiatus due to personal reasons. When it resumes, it will no longer be posted chapter by chapter, but the entirety of the rest will be posted at once.)
> 
> * * * * * * * * *
> 
> Welcome to Who We Are.
> 
> First of all, a note on the title. I named it soon after finishing Offering, two years ago, when I first started planning it. It’s inspired by one of my favourite episodes of Supernatural (12.22), which has the same title. I’d already come up with it as my preferred title when I realised the similarity, but since I love that episode and it echoes some of the themes of this story, it made my choice of title more meaningful and I stuck with it.
> 
> About the contents. If you liked Offering, chances are that you’re into some form of bdsm. I remember some readers telling me that they don’t usually read stuff as extreme as what was in Offering, so here’s a warning: this is more extreme. If that makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read it. It starts right in the middle of the action, so the first chapter will give you a good idea of what’s to come, and there’ll be plenty more of it. Jensen’s very eager to explore and experience as much as he can, and Jared’s happily along for the ride. 
> 
> Given that one of Jensen’s biggest kinks is exhibitionism, here’s another warning: other people will be involved. Not for a while, and not in any kind of relationship sense (or cheating sense), but as part of their bdsm play. But Jared and Jensen are a solid couple throughout, and the involvement of others is purely for their pleasure. 
> 
> Along with exploring bdsm, these two are discovering who they are (hence the title), so there will be plenty of story along with kinky delights. Certain aspects of the plot from Offering will continue and/or be resolved. Certain scenes/people/events readers have asked me about will be included, and questions will be answered. 
> 
> For those of you who loved Offering, thank you for your support, and I hope you love this too. It picks up right where Offering ended.
> 
> (By the way, I picked today to post the first chapter because a lot of us should be in Rome right now, about to spend the weekend with the real Jared and Jensen. This is my token in honour of what we should be enjoying right now, if only the world were different.)

He’s Jared’s. 

He offered himself formally and Jared accepted. Jensen knows it wasn’t a formal collaring when Jared snapped the cuff around his wrist, but it was a signal of intent. Like an engagement ring. 

It feels reassuring. Powerful. His wrist tingles beneath it. It’s like Jared is touching him. Holding him. 

He keeps half a step behind Jared as they walk down the stairs and enter the club. He read somewhere that that’s an appropriate protocol to follow if you belong to someone. They need to talk about it, explore the parameters of what they want together. Does Jared like all that formal behaviour? He liked the idea of slave positions earlier, and he’s used eye contact rules before. Jensen should have asked him if he’s allowed to look him in the eye inside the club. Maybe he’s meant to keep his gaze lowered at all times. 

He’s here as a submissive. As Jared’s submissive. Everyone who sees them will know that Jensen submits to Jared. Sexually. They’ll look at Jensen and know he’s gay. Know what turns him on, what gets him hot. Everything is exposed here. There’s no way to hide. 

Everything is on display.

It’s a little scary.

He’s a very long way from Texas and bible study and church choirs. 

The club is loud. Dark walls with covert lighting surround a pulsating horde of people. Men. They’re all men. Gay men. Men like him. 

“This is it,” Jared says. 

Jared looks electrified. He’s bigger than usual, more powerful. He’s standing differently. Normally he tries to minimise the intimidation his excessive height can provoke, but tonight he’s emphasising it. His spine is straight, head high, shoulders back. His eyes blaze. He’s magnificent, and he’s all Jensen’s.

He loves Jensen and he wants him and he’s claimed him. 

Jensen shivers. It’s almost too much. Every person looking at them knows that Jared chose Jensen. That Jensen belongs to him. They know what the cuff on Jensen’s wrist means. 

It’s a good thing his tight leather pants don’t let his body display just how much he likes them knowing. 

On the other hand, that’s something that’s acceptable here. That’s what this kind of place is for. Jensen could let them see everything.

“Want to look around?” Jared asks.

Oh yes. That’s what they’re here for. “Sure.”

The lights are low, with strategic spotlights highlighting specific areas. There’s a bar area, sodas only, with raised tables for people to gather around. It’s largely non-play, although Jensen spots several men on their knees beside their doms. Two look like they’re naked.

Jared could strip him here. In front of everyone.

He tries to imagine kneeling submissively on the floor while Jared shares a drink with other doms and casually chats to them. They’d all ignore him, like he wasn’t even there. He’d be of no more significance than if Jared had a bag with him which he placed beneath the table to wait until he was ready to leave. 

The centrepiece of the club is the stage in the centre. Jensen drifts towards it before remembering that he’s meant to let Jared lead, but Jared’s noticed his interest and heads in that direction. Their height means they don’t have to fight their way to the front to get a clear view of the current entertainment. A guy is buckled into a spanking bench, ankles and wrists locked down, a leather restraint around his waist. He’s slender, smaller than Jensen, but he has a round, rosy ass that’s thrust up in prime position to meet the thick wooden paddle that his companion is using on him. 

The smack is loud. It cuts through the general buzz and the beat of the background music, and Jensen feels it ricochet through his bones. 

Jared could put him up there. Strap him down. Bare his ass for all to see and then lay into it with a paddle like that. 

The guy being spanked wails with each blow. Does it hurt that much? Jensen hasn’t felt a paddle. He loves the sting of the belt, but this looks more like the heavy thud of Jared’s hand, only without the give of flesh. The guy’s ass is turning crimson. If the paddling continues, he’ll soon be purple. 

Bruises like that will last. The guy will flinch every time he sits down for days. He’ll gasp when people brush against him on the subway or in the street. Getting fucked will feel like another beating all over again.

Has Jared ever used a paddle on someone? He said Steel Rose is where he learned how to hit people safely. Was it just a demonstration or did he participate in the lesson? Did he have some other guy bent over before him? Did he practise on that stranger’s body?

How do lessons even work here? Do you volunteer to be used as a teacher’s aid? Is there somewhere you sign up? If Jared wanted to demonstrate a skill, would he have to use someone assigned for it or could he use Jensen? 

It wouldn’t be about Jensen at all. His body would be as much an implement in the lesson as the paddle or strap or rope; something to be displayed, his skin an illustration. His pain would be immaterial. Irrelevant.

“You like the look of that?” Jared asks, his voice low. 

Jensen can’t answer. Words don’t come. They’re inadequate.

Instead, he squeezes Jared’s hand.

“You’d like a paddle, I think,” Jared continues, reassured. “It’s the kind of pain you’d sink right into. And the bruises are killer.”

He could find out tonight. The stage isn’t the only place to play. Little alcoves dot the walls, places for semi-public play. In one nearby, a man is tied to a frame, blindfolded. Clamps squeeze his nipples, a heavy chain linking them, while his dom scatters red candle wax across his stomach and thighs. Jensen remembers that sensation, like being scorched by the flame itself. They need to buy candles. He wants to experience it again.

The next one shows a dom winding black rope around his sub in intricate loops that bind the man’s arms firmly behind his back. What does it feel like inside the rope? The dom keeps going, starting on his legs. He’s completely immobilised. He can wriggle his fingers and toes, but otherwise nothing beneath his neck can move. What would it feel like, being held so entirely?

The crisscross of rope is striking against his pale skin. He looks like a work of art. Jared could tie Jensen like that and exhibit him. His sole purpose would be decoration. Looking pretty. Even if it hurt. He can imagine his muscles would start to throb after a while, protesting the unnatural position they were trapped in. It wouldn’t matter, though. He’d still look pretty. Still be performing his function. Viewers might like tears. 

Jared does.

God, what is Jared thinking, looking at all this? Does he want to do all of it to Jensen? Does he imagine Jensen in the place of these submissive men, stripped and displayed, being hurt for the entertainment of the crowd?

Jensen’s stomach contracts at the thought. Put like that it sounds appalling. Horrifying. What is wrong with Jensen that he craves something like this? 

He looks back at the paddling, where the guy’s ass is now dark purple and he’s howling even between blows. That’s supposed to be a punishment. A deterrent. No one is supposed to like it. God knows Jensen hated it the few times he was spanked as a child. So what changed? Why does he yearn for it now? 

“I want to try that.” His voice doesn’t come out properly, so he clears his throat and tries again. “I want to try that, Jared. A paddle.”

“Yeah?” Jared looks delighted. “You wanna try here?”

It’s not like they have a paddle at home. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Jared glances around assessingly. “Do you want to do it in front of people or in private?”

The whole point of coming to a place like this is because other people are here and they can do here what they can’t do in private. Jensen points out one of the alcoves. “Maybe in one of those?”

Jared nods. “Good idea. Let me get a paddle. Do you want to be tied in any way?”

It’s going to happen. 

Jensen is about to be paddled in public. 

“Not tied.” The way his heart’s pounding, he might lose it if he suddenly needs to escape and can’t. “And, um, not stripped.”

“You want to keep your pants on?”

“Yes, please.”

“Sure.” Jared pulls him closer, nestles Jensen beneath his arm the way they like to sleep. “We’re doing this exactly the way you want to. Anything you don’t want, tell me. Anything you don’t like, tell me. You’re in control.”

Jensen gets why he’s saying that. This isn’t a scene. This isn’t play. This is trying something out and they don’t know how it will go. Of course Jensen has to be in control.

He doesn’t want to be in control, though. Being in control implies too many things. It means he’s choosing this. It means he’s responsible for putting himself in this position, half-dressed, exposed, offering himself up to be beaten in front of half the gay population of New York. For the first time he looks around at the men surrounding him, really looks. 

They’re already watching him. 

Evaluating him. 

Are those critical eyes running over his bare chest? He’s not a pretty little twink, but nor is he heavily built and muscular. He’s kind of in between. Average. What if they don’t think he’s good enough to be here? Can they tell this is his first time? That he has no idea what he’s doing?

A dark-haired guy in full leather licks his lips, his eyes dropping to Jensen’s crotch. No. Jensen’s ass. 

Imagine if Jensen didn’t have Jared. Imagine if he’d discovered he was gay and came to a place like this to find other gay people. 

A man like that might want to fuck him. 

Jensen’s stomach twists. He doesn’t want a man like that. He doesn’t want any of these men, he realises. Maybe his worries about them not thinking he’s good enough were unfounded, because as he follows Jared across the floor towards a free alcove, plenty of men swivel to watch them pass by. Their expressions are hungry. 

Jensen angles his arm out to ensure they can see the cuff. See that he isn’t available for any of them. He’s only for Jared. 

A couple drop back, disappointed. But more surge after them, clearly curious to see what Jared has in store for him. 

This is what he wanted, Jensen reminds himself. He stands quietly to the side while Jared sets up and arranges a small padded bench for Jensen to be draped over. They came here because he wanted people to see him doing this. 

Why is a voice screaming through his head that he is not for their consumption? 

He _is._

That’s the whole point. That’s his fantasy, remember? He _wants_ other people to see.

But not these people. 

Glimpses through his lowered eyelashes reveal a crowd is growing. Jared banters with a couple of them, but Jensen can’t make out the words. His brain isn’t comprehending them right now. Someone gestures towards Jensen with a leer. If Jensen didn’t have Jared, that man might claim him. That man might be the one getting ready to paddle him. Jensen would have to let him touch him. Let him see his pain. Let him enjoy it.

The man’s going to enjoy his pain anyway.

He’s going to watch. He’s going to see Jensen bent over, face down, ass up for punishment. He’s going to watch the paddle slam into him, watch the way Jensen will flinch, maybe gasp or cry out. What if it hurts too much and Jensen can’t take it? He’s never felt the paddle before? What if it’s too advanced for him and he starts crying and Jared has to stop?

These men have no right to see his tears. 

Jensen doesn’t know any of them. 

It shouldn’t matter, he tells himself fiercely when Jared helps him into position. Knowing them isn’t the point. Pleasing them is.

He doesn’t want to please them. He doesn’t want them to want him. They’re all wrong. He’s just for Jared. He gave himself to Jared and he belongs to Jared and—and he needs to think about this being what Jared wants, the use to which Jared wants to put him....except Jared didn’t want this. He didn’t ask for it. Jensen did. 

Jensen isn’t doing this because Jared wants to show him off to the avid crowd. He’s doing it because he asked for it. He’s the one who wanted it.

But he doesn’t want it. Not like this. It’s wrong like this.

Ow, fuck, the paddle hurts. 

A hand brushes over his ass, blazing after a single blow, and Jensen flinches but he has nowhere to go. The bench doesn’t let him pull away. 

“How was that?” a voice asks. A person is crouched beside him. He can feel the heat of a body too close. Why is someone so close to him? 

“Jen?” 

A hand is in his hair now. Another one’s on his back. It slips in his sweat. Why are there so many hands? Why are they touching him? That wasn’t the plan? He’s not for them to touch. He’s not for them at all. Why isn’t Jared stopping them?

“Jen, baby, talk to me.”

That’s Jared’s voice. He’s not meant to be talking to Jensen, but talking to all those fucking men who won’t get their hands off him! Why isn’t Jared protecting him?

“Do you want to get up? Was that enough? Too much?”

Of course it’s too much. It’s too much everywhere, too many people, too much noise. Why is there roaring? It sounds like a waterfall thundering down against rocks. 

Maybe it’s the paddle thundering against his ass. Is it? Is Jared hitting him again? Why can’t he feel it?

He can only feel the hands. Sliding through his hair. Groping at his shoulder, exploring the lower curve of his spine, testing his biceps, which are rigid from the force he’s using to hold onto the handles below his head. 

“It’s okay, babe. Everyone’s gone. You’re fine. You can let go. Jensen? Can you hear me?”

A hand covers his wrist, the wrist with the cuff that belongs to Jared, and Jensen jerks it away. 

“Let go with your other hand now too. Come on, let me help you up.”

He can’t get up. He can’t look at all of them, see the way they’re leering at him.

“Jen, please. Just—look at me, then.”

The anxiety in Jared’s voice cuts through the fog surrounding him. Why does Jared sound like that? What’s wrong?

“Jay?”

“Yes! Yes, Jensen. Can you look at me? You just need to turn your head a little.”

If he turns his head, he’ll see them. The ones touching him on this side. 

“Make them stop.”

“Stop?”

“Stop touching me!”

The hands vanish instantly. “No one’s touching you. I promise. You’re fine. You’re safe. There’s just me here. They’re all gone. It’s just us.”

“’kay.” 

It takes an excruciating effort, but he manages to ease his head to the side. Jared is crouched beside him, eyes dark with worry. 

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s—” Jared gives a little laugh. It sounds disbelieving. “Jensen, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You checked out on me there a little, buddy.”

“No. I’m good. What’s wrong. Why are you—” Are those tears in Jared’s eyes? “Crying?”

“I’m not cryin’.” Jared wipes his eyes impatiently. “I’m fine. I was just worried about you. Did I hurt you?”

“You hit me.”

“Yeah, it was heavier than I expected. I should have tried a few practice swings first. Was it too much? I only hit you once, then I wanted to check in but you weren’t answering me.” Jared knuckles his eyes again. “Are you okay?”

“Stop asking me. I’m fine, I told you.” But Jared clearly isn’t fine. Jensen struggles on the bench. He’s angled too far over to get purchase with his feet so he can stand up. “Help me.”

Jared pulls him upright, kicks the bench aside. Dizzy from the blood rapidly draining from his head, Jensen leans against him, trying to breathe. Why is his chest so tight? 

Remembering what Jared tried with him during the fireworks in Dallas, he tugs Jared’s hand down over his stomach and tries to breathe into it, to make it move out with each breath. Jared quickly gets what he’s doing and he flattens his palm, warm and heavy and comforting.

“That’s it, Jen, that’s good, so good. See? You’re moving it. You’re doin’ good, baby, you’re doin’ real good. So good for me.”

If he can’t breathe, that means he’s having a panic attack.

Oh.

Oh shit.

The events of the last few minutes replay through his now far-more-comprehending brain. He was having a panic attack on the bench. He was having it even before he lay down. And because he kept saying he was fine each time Jared checked in, Jared didn’t realise what was happening.

The hands on Jensen were Jared’s.

Of course no one else touched him.

He looks, steeling himself to face the men who were watching from a distance, but they’re not there. Or, if they are, they’re hidden behind a curtain. It’s not a very comprehensive curtain, doesn’t fully reach to each end, but it’s sufficient to give them privacy.

No one is watching him.

No one is touching him.

Nobody but Jared.

Who’s still murmuring a constant stream of comfort and support, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Jensen’s stomach now that he’s breathing properly again. God, no wonder he sounded so worried. How could Jensen have done this to him?

Turning around, he pulls Jared’s head down and kisses him. He means it to be gentle, reassuring, but the panic that streaked through both of them surges through it and he bites at Jared’s lower lip, digging his teeth in, then curls his tongue demandingly around Jared’s. Jared opens for him, lets him take whatever he wants. He’s down at Jensen’s height, propped against the top of the bench, his legs spread wide for Jensen to press hard against him. 

“Mine,” Jensen says fiercely into his mouth. “You’re mine.”

“I am,” Jared agrees.

“Didn’t want them. Just you.”

“You have me.” Jared lets their foreheads fall together as they gasp for breath. “Just me, Jen, if that’s all you want. We don’t need them. It’s fine, just us.”

This is something Jensen will have to think about. But not now. Now is for him and Jared and being together. 

“Can we do something with the curtain closed?”

“It’s not really private.”

“It’s private enough.” He doesn’t want tonight to be a bust for Jared. It’s Jared’s birthday, this is a celebration. “Are we allowed to?”

“Yeah. You’re not meant to keep it closed all night, but for a little while, sure. No one will open it. What do you want to do?”

“I want you to paddle me again.”

“But I hurt you.”

“Jared.” Jensen smiles, even though Jared probably can’t see because he’s so close. “I like pain, remember?”

“I thought I damaged you.”

“No damage.” 

Jared pulls back, looking searchingly into Jensen’s eyes. “You had me seriously worried.”

This time Jensen knows Jared can see his smile. “I’m fine. I wasn’t then, you’re right, and we can talk about why later and figure it out. But right now it’s just you and me and I very much want to feel that paddle properly.”

***

Jared isn’t sure what to do. Does he accept that Jensen’s miraculously suddenly okay now? Does he resume paddling him without the audience and worry about what went wrong later? Was it just the audience? How did Jared miss the moment things changed? What if they change again and he misses it again?

But Jensen’s looking at him with such bright, expectant eyes, and he can’t bring himself to disappoint him. 

“You’re gonna talk to me after every single blow, you understand?”

Jensen nods. “I will.”

“I want you to count. I want to hear the number, followed by a colour.”

“Sure.”

“Sorry if that means you can’t, like, lose yourself in the pain or whatever. But I need to know you’re with me and you’re aware and you’re okay.”

“Jared, that’s fine. I’ll do it. It’s no problem. I understand. It’s a good strategy.”

Great, now he’s the one needing comfort and reassurance. He kind of is, though, still feeling shaky from the horror of realising he’d lost Jensen and not knowing how or why or how to fix it. Another dom, a guy Jared vaguely recognised from former visits, pointed at the curtain and started herding the onlookers away when it became obvious something had gone wrong, and Jared needs to thank him for that one day. He was panicking so badly he froze. He didn’t know how to help Jensen, how to fix things.

Getting rid of the audience seems to have helped. Jensen looks okay now. He’s fully back. He’s breathing normally. He’s not overly pale or badly flushed. There’s a shelf with free bottles of water at the back of the alcove, and Jared tosses one to Jensen. “Drink some of this first. You’re sweating a lot and I don’t want you dehydrated.”

It helps, watching Jensen comply. He’s taking care of Jensen. Making Jensen safer. It’s good. He takes a few swigs of water himself and discovers how dry his mouth is. Panic can do that to you.

Now is clearly not the time to discuss with Jensen what went wrong. Jensen wants to salvage their night and he looks like he’s okay enough to try again. Jared needs to turn off his worry and make this good for both of them. He doesn’t want Jensen to feel like he fucked up or disappointed Jared in any way.

“Are you still okay with your shirt off?”

Jensen glances down at himself as though he’d forgotten. “Yeah. No one can see me here. Just you.”

Yep, it’s clearly the audience who sparked things off. When they leave the alcove, Jared will give him his shirt. No one will see a single speck of Jensen that isn’t usually public. “I’m going to give you ten. They’ll be hard ones. I’m not wasting any strikes. After each one, you’ll count and give me a colour. It’s okay if you need a few seconds to catch your breath before speaking, I won’t rush you. But I need to hear your voice. And if at any moment you want it stop, just say my last name. Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to give you a bit of a warm up with my hand first?”

“If you want to. But not if you don’t.”

Jared tries to interpret that. Jensen’s saying he doesn’t need it, and it’s up to Jared. He wants Jared to decide. He doesn’t want to make the decision.

Okay. Jared can do this.

“You’ll get ten with my hand too.” He reaches out to squeeze Jensen’s leather-clad ass cheek. “Just because you feel so good and I want to enjoy you.”

There’s relief in Jensen’s eyes; Jared interpreted him correctly. “That’s what I’m here for.”

It’s feeling like them again, and Jared’s courage returns. He squeezes harder. “Just for me.”

“Just for you.”

It’s good this time. Spanking Jensen with his hand probably hurts him more than it hurts Jensen, since his hand has no leather shield the way Jensen’s ass does, but he hits hard and hears satisfying moans from Jensen for the last three. Jensen’s no longer so terrifyingly still over the bench. He’s writhing, pushing his ass up, asking for more. 

Spanking done, Jared lifts the paddle. It’s deceptively heavy, and he knows now to pull the blow enough so it feels good for Jensen. 

Jensen gasps at the first strike. “Fuck!”

“Wrong word.” Jared taps his ass with the paddle. “What do you say?”

“One.” Jensen’s voice is strong and clear. “And green.”

He keeps the second at the same level, gets a “Two and green,” and ramps it up a little for the next one. 

“Ooh, ow, fuck, God, Jared, that’s good.”

He’s glad to hear it, even as he says sternly, “Do you really want a punishment for every wrong word that comes out of your mouth?”

“Really?” Jensen turns his head, straining to try and look up to see him. “Yes, I do. Like what?”

These words shouldn’t count, but a gleeful voice inside Jared’s head shouts: _Fourteen!_ “I picked up a little whippy thing when I got the paddle. I could use it on your chest when we’re done, on your nipples. Turn them red and hot and sore, at this rate. Careful how you answer, ‘cause you’re on fourteen already.”

Jensen grins at the floor. “Yes, please.”

_Sixteen._

He keeps the intensity where it was for the third blow through the next five. It’s right on Jensen’s border, falling slightly more on the pleasure side than the pain. Jensen swears several more times, especially when Jared gives him three on top of each other, and he’s on twenty-two when they’ve reached eight. 

“How many more, Jen?”

Jensen answering the question isn’t part of his permitted words. He shifts his weight on the bench, rolling his hips from side to side delectably as he figures out what to do about it. “Two more,” he says eventually.

Two words. He only needed one. Twenty-four. “You’ll really feel these. Brace yourself.”

He gives Jensen a minute. Jensen knows how to take pain, knows it’s better to relax and open himself to it rather than resist, and Jared watches until he settles, obediently waiting for the blows.

The first one’s as hard as the one Jared gave him the first time, and Jensen jackknifes on the bench. “Ow! God! Fuck! Oh my God, Jared, Jared, Jared, that hurts like fuck!”

The fire of Jensen’s ass burns right through the leather when Jared rests his hand across it to feel. “You okay?”

Jensen moans beneath him, then presses up into his hand. “So good. It’s so fucking good, Jared, you have no idea.”

He’s just doubled his score for punishment. Forty-eight. That’s twenty-four to each nipple. Jared’s going to enjoy this. “Two more words to fifty,” he advises. He swipes a hand down Jensen’s spine, sending sweat flying. “Let’s see if you make it. But first, what do you say?”

“Nine, and green. So green.”

Fifty! Jared lets fly, even harder. Jensen screams, more like roars, actually, but he manages to keep any extraneous words in, keeping to the fifty as though it was a goal to be achieved. “Ten,” he pants when he’s able to speak properly. “Green. Still green. Can I talk now?”

“You can talk. Anything you want to say. Go for it.”

“It’s so good, Jared, you have no idea. Honestly.” He thrusts his ass up again, and Jared gives in to the temptation to massage the pain into it. “It’s so heavy, so—so all-encompassing. So overwhelming, but in such a good way. I love it. We have to get one.”

Definitely, if Jensen loves it so much. “You’re probably bruised.”

“Good. I hope so. Can I get up now? I really want to kiss you.”

Jared loses track of how long they spend making out against the wall. Jensen squeaks into his mouth every time Jared squeezes his ass, but then he retaliates by rubbing his hard cock over Jared’s. They could theoretically do something about that here, that’s what the curtains are often used for, but Jared doesn’t want to. 

Not here.

“So, hey,” he murmurs into Jensen’s mouth. “You ready to take your punishment?”

Jensen laughs, low and sexy, and the sound goes straight to Jared’s cock. “You ready to give it to me?”

“I want to see how much your nipples can take.”

“Don’t hold back.”

Jared makes himself look as dom as he knows how. “You will get exactly what I give you.”

There it is, that glow in Jensen’s eyes that he loves so much. “Yes, sir.”

Jared’s never really got into the whole _sir_ side of things, but he can’t deny he likes the sound of it from Jensen in circumstances like this. 

“How do you want me?” Jensen asks. 

Jared surveys their small space. “On your knees.” He pushes the bench further towards the wall, opening up the floor area. “Here. Let’s see how those yoga poses are paying off. Lean back and hold your feet, but keep your hips up.”

It’s an uncomfortable pose, leaving Jensen balancing backwards. The position would have been beyond him before they started yoga, but he’s easily able to reach back and aid his balance with a grip on his heels. 

“How’s that?”

“Okay for now.” 

It won’t be for long. But that’s part of the fun. “You look very enticing like that.”

“I feel....” Jensen pauses. His belly’s already starting to tremble. “Very exposed.”

“Good exposed?”

“Yeah.”

Good. “Okay, let go and assume a normal kneeling pose while I tell you how this will go down.” 

Jensen plops his thighs down onto his calves, then yelps when his beaten backside bumps into his heels. “Ah!”

Jared’s inner sadist laughs. “Good boy. Right.” He produces the mini flogger he picked up with half a mind on finding some excuse to use it on Jensen’s nipples. Barely twelve inches long, half of that handle, it fits easily into his hand. He lashes it against his forearm. Perfect, a sharp sting, but the strands are soft leather so they won’t damage Jensen’s skin. He tries again, harder this time. Shit, that hurts. Impact play is something he will never understand the attraction of, but Jensen’s watching with wide, eager eyes, clearly imagining the bite of it across his nipples. Purely to enjoy his reaction, Jared snaps the flogger against his arm a third time, harder still. 

Jensen shivers. 

Jared considers asking him to choose a level of intensity, but then he remembers Jensen’s plea not to have to make decisions. “You’re going to feel all three of these,” he informs him. Keep things simple, he reminds himself. Jensen’s still recovering from the aftermath of a panic attack, so don’t overwhelm him. “I want your eyes open, but if you flinch away before I hit you, you'll have to close them. You understand?”

“Eyes open,” Jensen nods. “No flinching.”

They could play a fun game where Jensen has to keep count of how many hits he receives to each nipple and not get confused between sides. Jared definitely plans to play it with him one day, but that might be too much for tonight. “You have twenty-five coming to each side. You’ll get them in batches of ten, ten and five, alternating sides between each batch. I’ll decide the speed at which you receive them, but if you need me to slow down, say yellow. As usual, say red if you need me to stop, and my last name to end the scene entirely.” Like Jensen should have said earlier when things got out of control. “This time you’re allowed to speak as much as you like. In fact, I encourage it.”

“I understand.”

Jensen’s eyes are still clear, he’s fully conscious and aware. There’s no sign of dread or discomfort or nerves. “Good boy. Now assume the position again.”

It’s fun. The decision to mete out the punishment in batches to each side reduces the distraction of trying to figure out what best to do next, leaving Jared free to revel in Jensen’s struggle to bear his punishment manfully. His stomach muscles start trembling before the first batch of ten is complete, and his arms follow suit not long after. He keeps up a sustained babble of sensation, mostly curses and exclamations of pain, as his nipples puff up beneath the blows and the skin around them turns red. 

“Final five each,” Jared announces. 

Jensen drags in a breath that sounds like a sob.

“Do you need a break? Say yellow if you do. You can have a minute to kneel back down and rest your muscles.”

“N-no, do it.”

“If you break position at any time during the last set, we’ll start over.”

Jensen sobs again. “Just do it!”

Taking pity on him, Jared slams the final five down on his left nipple as rapidly as he can manipulate the flogger. Jensen’s eyes fall shut as he fights to endure them, a low, sustained, “Aaaaaah,” coming through his lips.

“Last five,” Jared says, and takes aim at his right side. 

Jensen breaks the second the flogger hits him for the final time. He collapses as though his strings were cut, but Jared’s already there to grab him. “Such a good boy for me, Jen, taking your punishment so well.”

“It hurts,” Jensen whimpers. “Jay.”

If they were at home, Jared could ice his poor, fiery nipples. He considers fetching some ice from the bar, but he doesn’t want to leave Jensen unguarded in this state. 

“I think I came in my pants.”

“What?”

“Your pants, I mean.”

“Seriously?”

“It hurt so good. I couldn’t stop. I don’t know. It felt like I came. I can’t feel anything other than my nipples right now.”

Turning on the floor to cradle Jensen more securely, Jared slips two fingers down inside the tight leather. “I think you did. No one will know. Black leather’s good that way.” On his way out, he pats Jensen’s exhausted stomach muscles. “See what pleasures yoga gives us.”

“I don’t know if I can stand.”

“Take a minute. No rush.”

It’s peaceful, sitting there with Jensen on the floor. Beyond the flimsy curtain the club rages on. They’ll have to face it again to leave, but right now it’s just the two of them and everything’s perfect. 

“What’s the time?” Jensen asks after a while.

Jared checks. “Just after midnight.”

“It’s not your birthday any more.”

“You gave me the best birthday.” He presses a kiss into Jensen’s hair. “Thank you.”

“Even though I panicked?”

“We fixed it. You’re okay, right?”

“Hey, I’m the one who came. Without permission, I might add.”

He loves that he did that. He got Jensen to come without being able to control it. “Does that mean you want a punishment? Wasn’t that one enough?”

“Not now,” Jensen says. “But later.”

Jared kisses Jensen’s hair again, then rests his cheek against his head. “We need to talk about it. About how we want to go forward with this. What kind of rules we want.”

“Yeah, we do.” Jensen snuggles closer. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Dozens of ideas clamour through Jared’s head. He should write them down. Be practical and organised about this. 

There’s so much ahead of them. 

He can’t wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strange to think Supernatural isn't ending today after all.

It’s his second morning waking up with Jared, knowing it’s for good. Lying in bed listening to Jared’s soft breaths, Jensen wonders how many he’s going to keep count of before he relaxes into being together as his normality. 

So many mornings in Dallas he woke resenting his past self for not sufficiently treasuring waking up curled into Jared’s body. He took it for granted at school once they started sleeping together and he never wants to take it for granted again.

“You’re thinkin’ real loud.” Jared’s voice is sleepy. 

“Good morning.”

“Tell me you’re not planning on a run at this hour.”

“It’s after ten.” Jensen stretches experimentally and pain spears through him. “But no, it would hurt too much.”

“Oh fuck.” Jared sits up. “Did I hurt you that bad? Turn around, let me see.”

He lets Jared turn him over. His ass doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, but there’s a definite throb and running would jolt it with every step. He’s not that kind of a masochist. 

Jared’s hand feels cool against his skin. “It’s not purple.” Jared sounds relieved. “Just red. I think it will only hurt for a day or two, then you can run again.”

Jensen doesn’t give much of a damn about running right now. All he wants is to stay right here for the rest of the morning. 

“We need to talk about it.” 

Jared lies back down and Jensen rolls over to face him. “Can we talk later? I just want to lie here with you right now.”

“Sure.” But Jared’s smile is tentative, as though the thought of their forthcoming conversation is worrying him.

“I’m fine,” Jensen emphasises. “I’m still processing last night, and I don’t want to rush into a talk before I’ve had time to think about it.”

“I’m sorry I missed what was happening with you.”

“I missed it too.” Clearly Jared does need to talk now and he can’t wait. Jensen hadn’t realised last night was more traumatic for him than it was for Jensen. “I should have noticed and alerted you, but I didn’t. Not until after, not until you were helping me breathe. So please don’t think I was panicking there while you were ignoring it.” He hates that Jared feels guilty about it. “I went into some kind of—I don’t know. Suspension. It didn’t feel like a panic attack. My brain slowed right down and I couldn’t process what was happening. I didn’t even realise you were the person touching me. I thought all of them were.”

“I wouldn’t let them!” Jared says fiercely. “Not without your permission first.”

“I know.” Feeling helpless in the face of Jared’s distress, he lays a reassuring hand against Jared’s cheek. “I still trust you. Completely. You took care of me when I couldn’t even tell you what was wrong. You noticed things weren’t right and you stopped and you got rid of everyone and you talked me down. You did everything right, Jay. I’m so—” Can he say this? He likes it when Jared says things like this to him, and just because Jared takes the dominant role between them doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to be taken care of too. “I’m so proud of you.” He manages not to stammer, and to keep firm eye contact. “I know it must have been a horrible shock for you, but you did so well. You took care of me so well. You immediately made me safe. Thank you for that.”

Jared doesn’t look like he believes him. “I made you unsafe in the beginning. I should have known we needed to take it slower.”

“It isn’t your fault. I asked for it.”

“But I should have known how overwhelming it was for you—”

“How could you know, when I didn’t know? I was enjoying it, I was right there with you. It was exactly my fantasy, and you were making it happen for me just like I wanted. I don’t know why I couldn’t deal with it. I still need to figure that out. But neither of us could’ve seen that coming.”

“I should have,” Jared mutters, looking away. His lower lip trembles when Jensen gently rubs his thumb over it. “I was so fucking scared.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I thought I hurt you. Badly.”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I thought—I thought I’d let you down.” Their eyes meet and Jared’s are glassy with tears. “I love you so much, Jensen. I just want to keep you safe and make you happy and look after you and love you.”

Jensen wipes away the tear that escapes. “I feel the same. I want all those things too, for you. And that’s why we’ll be okay, no matter what happens, if we just keep that in mind. I trust you completely to do all of those things, and I hope I can make you trust me to do the same in return.”

It’s clear Jared wants to trust him, but Jensen’s betrayal on his final night in Dallas ripped something very fundamental away from them. “I know you love me,” he says. “And you do make me happy. You do.”

“Good.” Jensen will work on the trust issue. He knows it’ll take time. “The most important thing is we worked it out last night, we fixed it, and we’ll continue to do so. Okay?”

Jared gives a tiny nod. “Okay.”

“Now will you hold me?”

“Of course, Jen. Come here.”

***

They pull themselves away from bed near lunchtime for some breakfast, and Jensen meets their final housemate in the kitchen. 

“Hi,” the big blonde guy at the sink says. “I’m Luke.”

He’s washing a plate and he quickly dries his hand and sticks it out. Jensen hurries forward to shake it. “Jensen. It’s good to meet you.”

“I figured.” Unlike Zach, Luke is full of smiles. “Real glad you came and sorted Jared out. He’s not been much fun this summer.”

“Hey,” Jared objects loudly. “Where’s the loyalty, Luke?”

“Come on, man, you weren’t and you know it.”

“I do.” Jared gives up his outrage and shrugs. “Luke is Jeff’s cousin—or second cousin or cousin once removed? I can never remember the difference,” he tells Jensen. “He’s from Colorado.”

“Denver born and bred.” Returning to his washing, Luke gives Jensen a big grin. “My dad was Jeff’s cousin.”

Jensen picks up the _was._ “I think that makes it once removed, then.”

“I grew up calling him Uncle Jeff, for what that’s worth.”

“So you were close?”

“He was considered the black sheep of the family, but he and my dad were always close, so we’d hang out. I loved coming to visit him here in New York. And now I get to live here, so it’s great.”

“Luke will be a sophomore at NYU this September,” Jared puts in. He’s fiddling with the coffeemaker, which seems an excellent idea. 

To go with the coffee, Jensen gets out bread for toast. “What’s your major?”

“Civil engineering.”

Jensen hadn’t expected that. “There’s a lot of math involved, right? Not my sphere.”

“Your boy over here’s been a great help in that department. It’s cool that he’s staying for the school year so I can keep the best tutor I’ve ever had.”

“You’re great,” Jared says. “You’ll be fine.”

“He’s a brilliant tutor,” Jensen confirms. 

So Jared’s definitely staying in New York come the fall? That means Jensen is, too. It’s one of the items on their ever-growing list of things to discuss. Is Jared planning to continue school here? Did he transfer already? Jensen’s been wary of bringing it up since Jared’s secret plan to stay was the basis of their catastrophic fight, but his theatre job officially only lasts until the end of August. Maybe if he does a good enough job, Mark Matheson will consider hiring him to assist him for his next show. 

So much to sort out and decide.

He’s just relieved his father didn’t insist he has to finish college right away. “Go figure yourself out,” is what he said. He said it angrily, but not in a bad way. Jensen gets his anger. It wasn’t anger at Jensen for being gay, but rather the deceptive way Jensen went about it, leading both Dianne and Jared on at different times, and acting without integrity. “That’s not the way we raised you,” he'd shouted, and he was right. It’s not. Jensen does know better, and being scared isn’t adequate excuse. “What kind of man do you want to be?” Dianne asked him last week, and that’s what Jensen’s father wants him to figure out. 

Jensen isn’t sure quite where to begin answering that question.

Jared’s telling Luke about Jensen’s theatre job. “... and he starts at ten tomorrow. The rehearsal studio’s on 42nd Street, just off Times Square.” He turns to Jensen. “I thought of heading up there this afternoon, maybe, to check it out so you know where to go in the morning. What do you think?”

It sounds good to Jensen. “Sure. Is it far?”

“About twenty minutes taking the subway. Probably double that walking. You might end up wanting to run there in the mornings.”

Luke perks up. “You run?”

“Jensen’s a health fanatic like you.”

“Cool.” Luke holds his hand up for a high five, which Jensen gives. “Welcome, man. This is great. I work part-time as a physical trainer at a gym not too far from here. I can get you a discounted monthly pass, if you like.”

Finding a gym is on Jensen’s enormous to-do list. “That’s great, thanks. Does Jared go there?”

Luke laughs. “Jared, in a gym?”

“You didn’t keep it up?” Jensen turns to Jared with reproach.

“Without you? The last place on earth I wanted to be was a gym.”

Because it reminded him too much of Jensen? At least Jared associates him with something healthy. “I’m here now. Can you get him a discounted pass too?” he asks Luke.

“Sure. I’ve been offering him one all summer.” Luke looks at Jared, shaking his head with a grin. “To think, you tried to insist that those new muscles of yours came from natural filling out as you got older!”

Jensen punches Jared in the arm, right in the middle of some of those new muscles. “Take credit for your hard work, Jay. He puts on muscle real quick,” he lets Luke know. “I don’t seem to get much bigger no matter what I do, but he shows it fast. He’s even kept some of it despite lazing the summer away.”

“I did not laze,” Jared objects, but he’s grinning, the distress caused by last night nowhere in sight. Good. “Fine, I’ll join you guys at the gym. Luke, do you have kickboxing classes?”

“We do. Why, you into that?”

“Jensen is.”

Jensen’s taken aback. “How do you know?”

“What? Oh, Dianne told me. The night I arrived, when I was worried you might hit me and she kindly let me know you’d had training.”

God, he remembers how badly he wanted to punch Jared back then. He flushes when he remembers what he did instead, that frantic, desperate blowjob he basically forced on him in Josh’s room. “You think I should continue training?”

“If you want to. Did you like it?”

He did. He liked channelling the constant rage he felt into something strictly disciplined, but now he no longer feels the rage, is it still something he wants in his life? “I’ll give it a go here. I’ll have a pretty full-on schedule,” he explains to Luke. “We rehearse six days a week, but I’ll have Sundays off, and evenings before tech week.”

“I’ll be there until eight tonight,” Luke says. Finished with his lunch dishes, he hangs up the towel he used to dry them. “Jared knows where it is, so come by when you get back and I’ll sort you out with passes and the timetable for our classes, so you can see what you can work in.”

***

It’s fun showing New York to Jensen. They take the 1 train uptown and locate the rehearsal studio with ease, then wander through Times Square and along Broadway for Jensen to get his bearings, locating potential coffee and food providers nearby. He exclaims eagerly over several Broadway productions they pass, and Jared’s amazed. How did he never know about Jensen’s interest in theatre? Apparently it was as suppressed in him as being gay was, but he’s surprisingly knowledgeable. Date nights are clearly going to be trips to the theatre, which suits Jared. He can appreciate a good play. Maybe not a musical so much, but you never know. It’ll be fun finding out with Jensen by his side.

From there they amble back downtown, past the Empire State Building then through Chelsea towards home. Everything’s new to Jensen, and Jared loves seeing him so excited and happy. 

If Jared has his way, he wants to keep Jensen like this forever.

It’s late afternoon when they pop into an Italian place for an early dinner. He likes this restaurant because its spacious booths afford relative privacy for diners, which is essential for the conversation he wants to have. Jensen’s been comfortable all afternoon, showing no signs of repercussions from last night. The crowds in Times Square didn’t bother him. He didn’t shrink away when men looked at him, even happily gave directions when asked by a group of blatantly gay men, two of whom openly checked him out. So the problem last night was something to do with the club, with what they were doing there.

Jared’s been mulling it over beneath his largely tourist-guide chatter, trying to break the problem down into a list of possible causes and analysing likelihoods. If Jensen’s uncomfortable talking about it, he doesn’t want to waste time going down erroneous detours. 

He's tried to mentally replay the scene exactly as it went down. Jensen looked ravenous at the sight of the guy being paddled. Jared had suspected he’d be into paddles, and he certainly was. He’s the one who brought up doing it. Jared suggested doing it at the club, and there was no hesitation in Jensen. None. But he did show reluctance about being stripped. He didn’t want to be exposed. That’s one of the keys. 

But Jared didn’t strip him. 

He made sure Jensen knew he was in control. Something went wrong there too, because Jensen slipped completely out of control. Maybe that was Jared’s mistake, believing Jensen was in control because he’d told him to be, so not keeping a close enough eye on him when he abruptly dropped.

He noticed Jensen’s awareness of the men who followed them across the room. He didn’t seem uncomfortable, although Jared saw him thrust out his cuffed arm to show he was taken. Had he felt threatened? They all kept a respectful distance. When a couple tried to get too close, Jared glared them away. He’d made sure to exude power, to be more than equal to any man in that room, and let them know it. Just because he was young didn’t mean he could be intimidated into handing over his sub. 

Jensen was relaxed when Jared helped him over the bench. Nothing about his body suggested any problem. He wasn’t stiff or unnaturally still. Not at first. He showed zero reluctance to bending over.

It seemed to happen when Jared hit him. But that makes no sense, because he thrilled to being hit later, in private. So why was being hit in front of other people a problem?

That’s what Jared wants to delve into, because it’s the only trigger he can identify. Somehow being hit in that situation sparked a panic so great in Jensen that he didn’t recognise Jared’s hands on him. He got it into his head that the onlookers were touching him and that apparently paralysed him with terror.

He was fine with being topless in the club, with men looking appreciatively at him. He was fine being submissive to Jared in front of others. He wasn’t fine when Jared hit him or touched him in front of them.

It’s the best analysis Jared’s been able to do and he hopes Jensen will be up to discussing it today, because he doesn’t think he can wait for much longer in this agitated limbo. 

They put in their orders, Jared recommending what he thinks Jensen will like from the menu, then Jensen folds his hands on the table in front of him. “So, you want to discuss it?”

Jared tries not to show his relief. “Are you ready for that yet?”

“I think so.” Jensen looks resolute, but not uncomfortable. His thumb rubs the cuff he's still wearing. Jared was relieved to see him put it back on after his shower. It's narrow enough to be discreet, a thick band around his wrist that can pass for a leather bracelet outside of the context of the club. “We can compare memories, maybe. See if we can isolate what went wrong.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been thinking.”

“Okay. You want me to go first?”

“It’s up to you. Which would be easier?”

“For you to decide.” The words burst out, and Jensen looks surprised at himself. “I mean—” He pauses. “I can make my own decisions. I know that. I can be in control. I can be responsible. But when we do this—it’s too—my brain gets confused. You told me last night I was in charge and I think that’s where I started to slip.”

Oh. Fuck, Jared’s an idiot. How did he miss his obvious error. It wasn’t in thinking Jensen would be in control because he told him to be, but in telling him to be in the first place. They were there as dom and sub. That’s the mindset Jensen was in. How could Jared have abandoned him like that? 

“I’m sorry. That was—I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t think—I was trying to make you feel better, but I didn’t realise—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jensen reaches across the table to trail his fingers over Jared’s tense forearm and leaves his hand resting warmly on the tight muscles. “There’s no blame. This is just—it’s an investigation. And that was the first point where things went wrong for me.”

Jared needs to keep his own emotional reaction at bay, and he swallows hard. “Right, so, when I said that, what did you think? How did you feel?”

“I understood why you said it. I did. But normally when we do things like this, I, I don't know, abandon myself to you. I go into a headspace where I just do what you tell me and that makes it okay.” Jensen grimaces at his own words. “It sounds stupid, like I think it’s not okay otherwise.”

“Do you think it’s not okay?”

Their server interrupts with their drinks, but Jensen doesn’t lose their thread. “I hadn’t thought about it judgmentally,” he says when she’s gone. No longer touching Jared, his fingers fiddle with the condensation on his glass. “Before, it was just what we did. You liked it, I liked it. Nothing else mattered.”

“But last night, you thought people would judge you for liking it?”

Jensen takes a sip, clearly thinking about it. “Maybe having other people see made _me_ judge myself for liking it. It made me think critically. Being beaten is meant to be a punishment, and a punishment is supposed to be horrible, unwanted, and shameful. What was wrong with me that I wanted it so badly? In front of everyone! And then, I think that’s when I started looking at everyone. Actually looking. Looking at the way they were looking at me. And it—I didn’t like it. It felt wrong. And I can’t say why it felt wrong. It was just—I’m sure they’re all perfectly nice men. They respected that I belonged to you. They weren’t going to touch me or do anything to me. But that started the panic because I definitely didn’t want them to. I didn’t know them. I didn’t trust them. I didn’t—I didn’t feel safe with them.”

This all feels like something Jared should have realised himself. It’s so obvious now. Of course Jensen didn’t feel safe. Jared knows him. He knows Jensen needs time to mentally work through things. He hasn't been gay in front of other men before, not overtly gay. Not in public where everyone could see. Nor has he played in front of others before. And while he has an exhibitionist kink, Jared needed to ease him into it way more slowly. Think how mortified Jensen was when they went to watch his friend’s band and Jared pretended people knew what he was doing to Jensen while they played at the table. Liking something in theory is a far, far cry from doing it for real. 

“Thank you for telling me all of that,” he says carefully. “It’s important for us to be able to discuss things in depth like this if we want to go forward with this kind of thing.”

Jensen jolts. “You don’t want to stop, do you? Just because I panicked once?”

“No! No, no, of course not.” Jared shoves his hand back through his hair, which today’s humidity has left limp and falling in his face. He doesn’t want it to obscure his view of Jensen, who looks alarmed and distressed. “Not unless you do. I’d understand if you didn’t want to keep—”

“I do want to keep going,” Jensen says heatedly. “I like this. I like that we do this. I would miss it too much if we stopped.”

“Okay. That’s good. I like it too. But it can be dangerous, as we discovered last night. There’s the potential for psychological damage if we make mistakes, or even if we don’t and we accidentally trigger something we didn’t expect.”

“Then we talk about it.” Relieved that Jared isn’t ending everything, Jensen leans back in his seat, a little smile flickering across his face. “That’s one of my resolutions for my new life,” he admits. “To be honest and open and brave even when I don’t want to face something. I caused so much damage this summer because I wasn’t any of those things, not with you, not with Dianne or my parents, and I don’t ever want to do that again.” The smile turns rueful. “Of course, I’m not saying I’ll be perfect from now on, but I intend to try my best.”

This is the man who ran from his home in fear just two weeks ago, and Jared throbs with pride in him. “Me too. I’m gonna try too. I could’ve done the same and I didn’t. I should have told you I was in love with you and didn’t want to lose you instead of plotting to leave behind your back. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that, Jensen.”

Jensen nods. “I forgive you. Okay? It hurt, and I hated you for a while, but I forgive you and it’s over and in the past.”

How did Jared ever get so lucky? “I forgive you, too.”

“Right.” Jensen leans back, stretching, and meets Jared’s eyes with a grin. “Listen to us, being so mature.”

“It’s good.” Jared feels able to smile for the first time since the conversation began. “I like this version of us.”

“Me too.”

They sit there smiling dumbly at each other until the server returns with their food. It’s Jensen’s first New York pizza and he loves it. Conversation turns to Broadway, with Jensen reiterating his horror that Jared’s never seen a single show in New York, and they make a rough list of shows Jensen doesn’t want to miss and capture it on Jared’s phone. Jensen expresses his nerves for tomorrow, how he hadn’t thought about it much on Friday because he was too concerned about his confrontation with Jared to come, but now he’s getting excited but also worried because he doesn’t know the first thing about working in professional theatre.

“You’ll do fine,” Jared assures him. “You’re the most conscientious worker I know. You’ll pick it up so fast that by opening night everyone will think you’ve being doing it for a lifetime.” He can see by Jensen’s face when he talks about it how into theatre Jensen is. He never looked like that when discussing any of the classes he was taking before. “I hope you’re getting complementary tickets for your show so I can come and see the results of your hard labour.”

“You’d really want to come?”

Jared doesn’t neglect theatre because he doesn’t like it. He’s just never been able to afford it in the past. “I really do. I’d be disappointed not to.” 

“I’ll ask about tickets.” Jensen finishes his last piece of pizza. “I don’t actually know the play we’re doing. It’s Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_.”

Jared loves that one. He’s read it several times.

“Could we find it online to watch tonight so I have some idea what to expect when I walk into that studio tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. There are several versions. Do you know what kind of interpretation your director is going for?”

Jensen frowns. “Mark said so much on Friday. Classical, I think. Yeah, that’s right. He’s directing three different versions of Shakespeare’s _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ this year _._ He said he did a large-scale kids’ one earlier in the summer for a theatre summer programme. This is the classical production. It has some TV actors or something in it, which he hopes will sell the tickets. Then in the fall, he’s doing a musical version. It’s being written at the moment, and needs a lot of input from him, which is why he said he needs an assistant to keep things going while he divides his attention between both.”

“That’s an amazing venture to undertake.” Jared’s impressed. “Okay, I’ll track down a classical production.”

“Thanks.” Jensen looks around for the server. “Can we go meet Luke now? You know the way to his gym?”

“It isn’t far.” Jensen apparently intends to get the cheque, and Jared forces himself to let him. They’ll take turns. It’s something else to discuss. “You know we still have a lot of other things to talk about, though.”

Jensen nods. “I’m making a list. Things to do with our regular life as well as....” He trails off, cheekbones reddening. 

“That too,” Jared agrees. “Let’s agree to park the exhibitionist stuff for a while. I have some ideas about easing into it if you’re still interested, or we can drop it entirely, but I don’t think we should decide that now.”

“Good idea. I definitely don’t want to stop the other stuff, though.”

“Me either.”

Jared feels like they’re in total accord as they gaze at each other over the table. “So you like the—paddle?” He mouths the last word.

Jensen’s cheeks flush again. “Very much.”

“I’ll see about getting one.”

“Don’t forget, you still owe me a—” Copying Jared, Jensen mouths, “—punishment.”

“You want that tonight?”

“Don’t want it hanging over me into a new week.”

“Makes sense.”

“So you should probably see to it when we get home.” 

“I probably should.”

“That’s something else on the list,” Jensen comments. “Your control of—of me doing that. I would like that to continue.”

Jared figured as much last night. “I’d like that too.”

The sense of total accord falls over them once more. This is his life now. 

With Jensen.

“Let’s make that visit to Luke pretty quick,” Jensen says. 

“Someone’s eager to get what’s comin’ to him.”

“I might be insatiable for a while.” Jensen winces, like it’s a guilty confession. “I spent so long this summer thinking I’d never have this again.”

“Oh, you’ll have it. You’ll have it plenty.”

“Good.”


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to Jared taking him to Times Square the day before, Jensen finds his way easily to the rehearsal studio for his first day. He ends up arriving thirty minutes early—overly vigilant, perhaps—and passes the time savouring a cup of coffee while scanning a copy of an online script for _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. The words feel nonsensical, but he remembers from studying Shakespeare at school that all it takes is a little concentration and soon they’ll be clear. 

It’s a crazy story, an ensemble piece featuring confused lovers and manipulative fairies and a man given a donkey’s head. There’s a play within the play, midsummer magic, and it climaxes with a royal wedding. 

Watching it last night, Jensen was struck by the concept of midsummer’s night being a time out of time, where normal rules fall away and meanings change. It’s like any time he and Jared do what he’s learned is called bdsm play. He spent a lot of time searching Google over the summer, trying to understand the new world Jared introduced him to, and one of the terms he discovered was subspace. That’s what happens to him when he lets go and lets Jared take over. That’s what he’s so addicted to. And it’s like this concept of midsummer’s night, when magic can alter what’s normal and turn it inside out.

Like punishment.

It’s not that Jensen yearns for punishment, in and of itself. He doesn’t. Not in the real world. But between him and Jared, when he’s in subspace, he revels in it. Last night while watching the film and for hours afterwards, Jared edged him, continuously building him up and then denying him as punishment for coming without permission at the club. It would have been fun on its own as a game, but framed as specific punishment—being forced to control himself because he hadn’t at the club—it had an extra enticing element. 

It’s also—soothing, he thinks now, remembering. He messed up and there was a consequence. It was dealt with. 

So maybe he is attracted to punishment in the real world.

Is he?

Say he was late for rehearsal one day. Say there was a specific punishment for that—his brain whizzes with images of being bent over in front of everyone, the actors, the stage managers, having to take a spanking for being late.

Even as he cringes, he feels that throb deep in his stomach of desire. 

But then he considers it as reality. Being spanked by—it would be Mark. In front of his colleagues. He’d be mortified and sick with himself and too ashamed to face anyone. He’d quit, end up having to bartend or something like Jared used to. He’d never be able to bear it. Not in reality.

What if he confessed his tardiness to Jared later? And Jared spanked him?

That’s....

Entirely more bearable. 

There’s a difference between getting hot over imagining something and then being confronted with it happening in real life. But maybe there’s an in-between they can play with. It’s worth thinking about, worth discussing with Jared. Like Jared said there were ways to ease Jensen into public play, if he still wanted it, without confronting him with an entire club full of men watching him. He’s not sure what, but he doesn’t want to discount it. 

There are so many shades to this. Back at college, he hadn’t known there was a name for this. It all felt natural and normal in their enclosed little world. It’s far more vast than he’d realised, more complex, and he wants to investigate it all, explore the edges, learn what they do to him, to Jared. He hadn’t thought much before about Jared’s side of it, the effort Jared goes to in trying to make it good for him. It’s not easy to assume responsibility for two people. That’s why open and honest communication is so essential, because how can Jared know what to do for Jensen if Jensen is hiding things?

So much to think about.

But now it’s time to head into the studio to meet the other half of his new life.

***

“This is Jensen,” Mark Matheson announces to the assembled group. “He’ll be assisting me on this production, and I want you to treat anything he tells you as coming from me.”

Whoa, Jensen did not expect that. He’s not the assistant director, he’s meant to be the director’s assistant. They’re not going to require authoritative decisions from him, are they? They’re all professionals here, actors and designers and crew. Every one of them knows what they’re here for and they’re qualified and experienced. Unlike him. Can they see that?

Jensen has no idea how his father got him this job or why Mark thinks he’s capable of it, but he’s determined to make himself indispensable and give Mark all the assistance and support he needs. Channelling Mark’s demeanour, he tries to look confident and capable when the eyes of his new colleagues follow Mark’s gesture and focus on him. He ignores the arched looks and blank stares and focuses on the friendly smiles. “Hello, everyone. It’s nice to meet you. I look forward to getting to know all of you better during the next few weeks as we put this together.”

Was that okay? Mark moves on to introducing Caroline and Maya, the two stage managers, and Jules the props manager, and Jensen tries not to panic. He’s in way over his head but he can’t let anyone know. 

One of the actors—Jensen can’t remember his character because his brain is too on edge to take in as much information as it should—grins at him across the table. It doesn’t feel like he’s laughing at Jensen, at least. It’s important to engage here, to bond. Not like at his father’s firm, where he can’t remember the name of a single employee. He risks a tentative smile back. The guy holds eye contact for several more seconds, his expression warm. Accepting.

Maybe Jensen can do this.

Mark moves swiftly through the designers, stating that they’ll be back this afternoon to explain and illustrate their plans for costume design, lighting, sound, and to introduce a mock-up of the set. Jensen knows some of the details from his interview on Friday when Mark briefly introduced him to his production ideas, and he’s looking forward to finding out more. 

“Let’s take a fifteen-minute break,” Mark wraps up the introductions, “and get to know each other a bit. Have some coffee, there are bagels and other snacks. Make the most of it, people, because I can assure you the pace will pick up from here. Table read starts at—let’s make it eleven.”

They’ll read through the entire play on the first morning, Jensen has discovered. That’s good, since he didn’t get far with his skim through it earlier. That will help him fix faces with characters. There’s a copy of the cast list at the front of the scripts Caroline handed out, and he can draw a diagram of where they’re sitting to learn the actors’ names as well. He needs to have this fixed in his mind before rehearsals begin in earnest tomorrow.

He’s bad at this. He stopped caring about who the people around him were years ago, back when he had to hang out with groups he despised. When he had to be someone he wasn’t. Things are different now. He’s figuring out how to become himself, who exactly he wants himself to be. He has total freedom here in New York. No one has any expectations of him. He’s allowed to be whoever he chooses.

He chooses to be someone who values the people around him.

“Hi.” 

“Oh, hi.” It’s the guy who grinned at him, and Jensen holds out his hand.

The guy shakes it, his grip firm. His eyes twinkle. “Oliver. Playing Nick Bottom.”

That’s right. The comical donkey character. “I’m Jensen. Assisting Mark.”

“From Texas, right?” 

“Dallas.”

“Houston, although I haven’t been home for years.” Oliver rests his hip on the table, smiling broadly. “It’s great to have another Texan boy.”

He sounds a bit like Jared, Jensen thinks, with only hints of Texas in his voice. “Have you been in New York a long time?”

“I came here at fifteen for ballet school. Never left. How about you?”

How can Jensen say he’s lived here for 72 hours? “I recently moved here, so it’s still new for me.”

“You’ll love it. There’s no place like New York, especially for theatre. It’s the best place you could possibly be. And working with Mark Matheson, that’s a real coup. Is this your first time working with him? Did you always want to be a director?”

How’s Jensen meant to answer any of this? Maybe Oliver isn’t as friendly as he seems. Maybe he’s here to interrogate the new boy who’s clearly out of his depth in the world of theatre to expose him in all his inadequacy to the others. “Hey, you want some coffee?” he says instead of answering. “I want to get some before they’re out.”

“Sure.” Oliver hops off the table and follows Jensen across the room. He’s shorter than Jensen, and his ballet training is visible in the way he moves and holds his body. 

He has years of experience at this.

Jensen did several junior high and early high school productions half a decade ago. Sure, he did direct one of them, he’s not completely clueless, but this is a world of professionals and he’s definitely not that.

“Hi, guys.” Another dancer approaches them, smaller than Oliver, with a shock of bright blonde hair. “Oliver, Bottom? Really?”

“This is Daniel. He was at SAB with me in the early days.”

“Bigger pastures than just ballet, baby.” Daniel reaches out to shake Jensen’s hand. “You’re the assistant director, right? Sorry, I missed your name.”

“Jensen.” He’s not the assistant director. He’s Mark’s assistant. But before he can clarify, Daniel continues.

“I’m playing Puck. Which I couldn’t if I didn’t have gymnastics experience, so who’s laughing now, Oliver? At least I’m not an ass.”

Oliver grins, unbothered. “He went to the Olympics,” he tells Jensen. “Didn’t win anything, though.”

An Olympian. Great. “Getting that far’s a major accomplishment,” Jensen says. “Congratulations.”

Daniel smirks. “I’m all about the experiences, man, and the Olympics were a blast.”

“Are you three having coffee or are you just blocking it for the hell of it?”

Jensen leaps aside. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

The statuesque blonde ignores them as she fills her cup. She leaves as silently as she approached, heading over to a small group of women in the corner.

“That’s Olivia Hall,” Oliver says. “Hippolyta.”

“Only got the job because her daddy’s a producer,” Daniel adds. “You’ll want to keep an eye on her.”

Great. Jensen reaches for a cup, not wanting to be distracted away from coffee a second time. “You guys know everyone here?”

Oliver glances around. “Know or know of. Jensen’s new to town,” he informs Daniel. “From Dallas.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “Why can I never escape you Texans? I’m getting a bagel. See ya.”

Jensen hides his relief in his coffee, shifting aside so Oliver can pour his own. Oliver looks more relaxed too, with Daniel gone. He nudges Jensen towards an empty corner and starts pointing out his fellow actors.

“William Price, Theseus. Been acting on Broadway since before I was born. Very past it now. If you want him to remember a note, give it to him in the morning. He won’t be sober come afternoon. Those two over there are Hannah Coleman and Abigail Bell, Hermia and Helena. Hannah’s from TV, this is her first show on stage, so she’ll need a lot of work. Abby’s gorgeous. I’ve been in several shows with her. She’ll always have your back. Our Oberon’s also from TV, you probably know him, Michael Perry. Not a bad actor, horrific with lines. He’s talking to Avery Scott, Titania. She danced for ABT.”

“There are a lot of dancers, considering this is a play.”

Oliver shrugs. “It’s the kind of show for it. Mystical, dreamy. And obviously Mark’s very big on the physical side. Did you meet Kris? He’s the movement director. I’ve known him for years. He and Mark work together a lot—but you must know that.”

“Sure.” Jensen should’ve done so much more research this weekend about his new job. About Mark, at the very least. He’s _big on the physical side?_ What does that mean? “Of course.” He needs to research Kris Ramirez too. “Any other dancers?”

“All the fairies. Keep an eye on Peaseblossom.” He points her out, tiny but intense as she whispers furiously to the group of other tiny women around her. “Audrey wanted to be Titania, saw this as her big break. She has a lot of experience in musicals, thinks she’d be better than a former ballerina. The other main fairies are Lucia, Naomi and—Ivy, I think? Naomi will always argue with you. I don’t know Ivy. Your biggest problem with Lucia will be getting her to speak loud enough.”

Jensen recalls problems with volume in school. He didn’t know they also happened in professional shows. “I should be writing all this down.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll figure everyone out real quick.”

Jensen hopes so. “Who’s that?” 

Oliver follows his glance towards an elderly gentleman holding court for several younger guys. “Henry Morris. British, best actor of his generation. He’s retired, been out for years, but is doing this as a favour to Mark since we hope for a run in London after this and his name sells tickets over there. He’s Egeus.”

Hermia’s father, Jensen recalls. “Who’s he talking to?”

“The two on the left are Sam Rogers and Connor Davis, Lysander and Demetrius. I did a play with Connor last year, great guy, never has much to say. I don’t know Sam. He grew up doing some TV show, can’t remember the name of it. I think he’s trying to make the jump from child star to legitimate actor. Guess we’ll find out how successful he’s likely to be.”

Sam looks vaguely familiar. It’s probably a show Dianne used to watch. He should get his mother to check. If he’s working on the show, is he allowed to ask for an autograph for someone back home? He has no idea about professional theatre etiquette. 

“On the right are some of my fellow players. The one with red hair is playing Snug. Evan someone? I don’t know him. Robert’s Peter Quince. He’s also been in theatre forever, like Willy, only he’s been sober for the last decade, so no troubles there. Dommy is Francis Flute. Don’t ever assume Dommy’s gay, he gets very uptight if you do.”

Jensen tries not to tense. “No problem. I won’t.”

Oliver studies him for a moment. “I’m gay. So’s Daniel. Henry Morris is, too. And I’m pretty sure a couple of others are. There’s no place for homophobia here.”

He needs to speak. The way Oliver is looking at him, a fellow Texan, means he has to say the words or things will start very badly for him here. It’s hard. It shouldn’t be so hard, but his mouth feels parched and his heart thunders. “I-I’m—” He can’t say the word. “I am, too. So. You know. You don’t need to worry.”

“You are?” 

_Come on,_ Jensen thinks at himself. “Yes.” He takes a deep breath and skims his fingers over the plain leather cuff Jared put on his wrist on Saturday night. “I’m gay. Like you. I came to New York to live with my boyfriend. He’s also from Texas. San Antonio.”

Oliver looks at him as though he understands exactly why Jensen found it so hard to say the words. “You’ll have to bring him along for drinks one day. We Texans should stick together out here.”

“I will,” Jensen says. Jared will be proud of him. “I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

There’s an ease in Oliver that Jensen hadn’t realised was missing before. “I want a bagel before we start. I shouldn’t really have one, but it’s my treat to get me through the table read. You having one?” He heads towards the table piled high with muffins, bagels and other delicacies. “You, at least, don’t have to worry about what you’ll look like on stage.”

There are chocolate muffins. Jensen shouldn’t, this is no way to begin his new life, but chocolate muffins will always mean Jared to him, and it’s a little comfort amidst the craziness of his new world. “Sure.”

***

His first week passes in a haze. Thanks to Oliver’s detailed introductions, he masters names, faces and characters on the first afternoon, and takes copious notes on the designers’ presentations because actors pepper him with questions as though he was intimately involved in the design process. They’re all treating him like he’s the official assistant director, and Mark does nothing to indicate otherwise. He involves Jensen in everything, solicits his ideas, and leaves him in charge for an entire afternoon of movement exercises with Kris Ramirez. 

Jensen’s learned quickly what being _big on the physical side_ means. Physicality, movement, sensuality; these are Mark’s storytelling priorities. He tells Jensen over coffee one morning, “Some directors rely on intense and endless interrogation of the text. It’s where the whole, ‘What’s my motivation?’ comes from. I’m more interested in finding the experience of the story and figuring out how best to convey it. I want the audience to live through it with the actors. To feel it.”

To that end, most of the first week is dedicated to what Mark calls games. “It’s so cool,” Jensen enthuses to Jared on Friday night. They’ve hardly seen each other all week, with Jared leaving to teach at his school on the other side of the city before Jensen wakes up in the mornings, and Jensen getting home exhausted from a day of being constantly in demand and on top of everything while pretending he has a single clue what’s going on. He barely manages to swallow the food Jared puts in front of him before he crashes. It means he hasn’t been a very good boyfriend, and now he has to work tomorrow as well and he’ll have only one day to recover before another six days of it begin. 

But Jared surprised him tonight, waiting outside the studio when Jensen finished work, and they’re ambling home together through the evening sunshine. He’s been taking the subway every day and his body welcomes the exercise. It’s relaxing. He needs to do it more. 

“What kind of games are they?” Jared asks, taking Jensen’s arm to guide him around the baggage of a group of Chinese tourists outside a hotel. His hand slides down to link their fingers, and a thrill ripples through Jensen’s body. 

They can do this. Hold hands. Be boyfriends in public. It’s allowed. He darts a glance around, but nobody’s paying attention. Nobody cares. Jensen’s being blatantly gay in the middle of the street on a Friday evening and it’s absolutely fine. He gives Jared’s hand a squeeze. “We played with levels of tension on Wednesday, the entire company moving between them, and it’s amazing, Jared, the difference in the room. They’re not even acting, just moving around aimlessly, but it really gets to you. When they were at the highest level and everyone was wound up so tight—I mean, I couldn’t breathe and I wasn’t even doing it—Maya dropped a file and everyone jumped like a scalded cat. We all laughed then, but it’s powerful stuff. We never did anything like this in school.”

“So, wait, you’re not working on the script?”

“Not yet. We’re starting that tomorrow, but Mark likes to begin with movement, he says, to get the feel of the play right first before looking at the words. We’ve talked through different scenes, analysed the emotional content of them, what levels of tension might be involved, what people’s statuses are—oh yeah, that’s something I wanted to tell you. We did it yesterday, but I was asleep before you got home from basketball.”

“Yeah?” Jared looks interested. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

Jensen had missed falling asleep in Jared’s arms, the bed feeling enormous and empty with just him. “It’s fine. I was meant to try that kickboxing class, but I was wiped out so I came straight home.” He’s glad Jared isn’t rearranging his life because Jensen’s here now. He would feel guilty and uncomfortable. Jared’s had a life in New York for years and Jensen wants to fit himself around it, into it. He smiles happily up at him. “I took some notes on this particular game when I got home so I wouldn’t forget the details to tell you. Mark says it’s the most important game he knows and he uses it constantly. He made all of us do it, even me and Caroline and Maya when he found out we didn’t know it, because he said we would only get the full impact if we played ourselves.”

“So what did you do? It was about statuses?”

“Yeah.” Jensen sorts through all the information crowding his head, figuring out how to best explain it to Jared within the context he wants. “Everyone gets a number from one to ten, only you don’t know what your number is. It’s stuck to your forehead so everybody else can see it. The numbers were divided up equally, then you all wander around saying hello to each other.”

“Hello?”

“Yeah, like that. Just hello. But you have to say it in different ways, depending on what number the person you’re talking to is. Tens have to be treated like kings and queens, with extreme deference, while ones are the lowest of the low and barely worth noticing, with everyone else on a scale in between. Of course you don’t know where you fit in, but that’s the trick of the game. After walking around saying hello for two or three minutes, you have to guess what your number is and line up in order. There were almost thirty of us, so roughly three of each. And guess what?” His voice rises with excitement. “Everyone got it right. The tens knew who they were, so did the nines, and the eights. The ones definitely knew who they were, same with the twos and threes, even the fours. Like, they knew exactly which number they were. The only ones a bit unsure were fives, sixes and sevens. Sevens were the most confused. They knew they were higher than most, but enough people looked down on them that they didn’t want to place themselves with the eights, and the sixes and fives knew they were sixes or fives, but weren’t sure which. I was a six, and I kept going backwards and forward between six and five because I couldn’t tell. Then we did it again, and I was a two. Six was fine, it felt kinda normal, I didn’t really have an emotional reaction to it, but two? Almost everyone looking at me with contempt? It made me feel a bit like on Saturday night at the club.”

“What?” Jared stops walking. “You felt people were looking at you with contempt at the club?”

“No!” He’s not saying it right. “I felt powerless. Unsafe. You were a ten that night and I needed you to protect me because I couldn’t do it myself. Because I had no power, because I was only a two. And everybody knew I was a two.” He feels like he’s making it worse. “When we’ve done stuff with just us, I’ve never felt like a two. I felt equal to you. Sure, you were in control, you were deciding stuff, but I never felt less than you.”

Now Jared’s regarding him with horror. “I made you feel less than me at the club?”

“No!” That’s not what he means either. 

“I don’t ever want to make you feel less than me,” Jared says. “That’s not what it’s about at all.”

“I know. You didn’t.” The knapsack on his back presses on his tightening shoulder muscles, so Jensen lets go of Jared’s hand and swings it to the ground. The sidewalk’s probably filthy but right now he doesn’t care. “It wasn’t you. It was them. The other men. I felt less than them. Like, if they decided they wanted to do stuff to me, I’d have to let them, I couldn’t stop them. I had no control.”

“I wouldn’t let them touch you, Jensen.”

“I know, but—” He rubs between his eyes, closing them briefly. This conversation isn’t going the way he wanted it to. “I was only okay there because I had you with me. I needed you to protect me. I’m used to taking care of myself. I’m used to being—enough. By myself. And there I wasn’t. I felt like I wasn’t,” he amends, seeing thunder grow in Jared’s eyes. “And playing this game yesterday, I started to panic a little like I did at the club because the way the threes to tens were looking at me made me feel powerless again. And then the ones bowed and scraped to me and it felt even worse, because surely they knew I was completely powerless, how could they not? I actually confused Lucia into thinking she was a two, because I couldn’t be mean to her because I felt so bad.”

“What the hell?”

Jared looks like he’s about to explode, so Jensen takes his arm, rubbing his thumb soothingly along his inner wrist. “It’s not a bad thing. That’s what I’m trying to say. It was a useful exercise because it gave me more clarity on why I reacted like I did. On how I felt. It’s a good thing, Jared.”

Jared shakes his head, evening sunlight glinting between the buildings to highlight the summer-gold tips to his curls. “How is people making you feel like shit a good thing?”

“It wasn’t real. Just like it wasn’t real at the club. It was a game, just like at the club. And now that I understand it’s a game, maybe it’ll be better. I have a way to think about it, not just be terrorised.”

“Terrorised, fuck.” Jared takes a deep, shuddery breath. “Baby, I never meant to terrorise you.”

“You didn’t. I’m fine. You fixed it, remember? It was an accident, because I didn’t know, we didn’t know. There’s a lot more to this than I realised.”

“Yeah. There is.”

“Come on.” Bending to pick up his knapsack, Jensen keeps hold of Jared’s wrist. “Let’s keep walking.”

He starts talking about a different game, one where the actors mill around at different speeds that nobody really decides, taking cues from each other, learning to read each other’s bodies and energies as they move faster or more slowly. He wants to point out that it’s a lot like the games he and Jared play as well, where they have to read each other and responding to each other like that is part of the joy of it, but Jared felt bad on Saturday, believing he failed Jensen by not reading him properly, so he doesn’t bring it up. 

Jared’s laughing again by the time they reach home, regaling Jensen with a practical joke two of his boys in class got up to, and the mood is relaxed as they make dinner together for the first time all week. No one else is home. They all go out on Friday and Saturday nights, Jared tells him as he fries some chicken and Jensen dices some cucumber for a salad. Jeff always has gigs, and Luke and Zach like to party. 

“When school starts they’ll probably stay home a bit more, but during the summer they’re always out on weekend nights. We often don’t see Luke until Sunday, if he’s found a girl to hook up with.”

“He doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

“Not that I know of. He never talks about anyone for longer than a week or two.”

“What about Zach? Any boyfriends?”

“He had one for a while last year before I got back for the summer.” Jared gives him an apologetic smile. “I know he can be a bit, well, abrasive, but he’s a good kid. Had a tough time before Jeff came along, and he’s messed up some, but overall he’s not bad. He’s happier now that he got into the art school he wanted, even though he can only go part-time because of his job.”

Jensen tosses the cucumber cubes into the bowl and reaches for the washed tomatoes. “What does he do?”

“Computer IT something, like on the helpdesk side of it, for a big travel company with a lot of franchises around the country. He keep their booking system running—although I don’t know how much of that is him boasting. I think he’s just one of many, but he’s good at it. Any IT problems you have, he’ll fix you up.”

Good to know. “You have useful housemates, Jared.”

Jared looks up from the pan. “Hey, so do you. They’re yours too.”

True. “Guess I’m still getting used to it.” He grins. “I live in New York!”

“That’s right, you do!” Jared motions behind him. “You wanna pass me those vegetables? I’m ready for them now.”

“Sure.” He hands over the prepared vegetables for the stir fry. It’s nice cooking with Jared. Being domestic. “So do you usually eat this healthfully in the summer? You’ve made me awesome dinners every night.”

Jared laughs. “Jeff’s helping me. He’s thrilled that I finally want to learn how to cook from him.”

“Yeah?” Chopping and dicing finished, Jensen adds the lettuce leaves and a dash of dressing, and tosses the salad. “So this isn’t normal around here?”

“It is now.”

Jensen lets the salad tongs drop into the bowl. Walking around the kitchen table, he goes up on his toes to kiss Jared’s mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Enough to learn how to cook for you, so you know I mean it.”

“Oh, I know you mean it.” Jensen kisses him again. “And I wanna learn too, so I can do my share. It’s not fair for you to do all of it. You’re working hard all day.”

“So’re you.”

“It’ll be easier next week.” It has to be. “I’ve spent the summer sitting on my backside doing nothing at work for two months, but my stamina will build up. I’ll get used to it.”

Jared looks away to turn off the gas. “Speaking of your backside, it’s been six days.” He slides his hand down Jensen’s back to squeeze said backside. “How’re your bruises doing?”

“Mmm.” Jensen presses against his hand, tendrils of heat flickering low in his belly at the touch. “I don’t know. I haven’t looked the past couple days. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“No?” Jared squeezes harder. “I wanna take a look.”

“I’m all yours as soon as we’ve eaten.”

“No. Now.”

The tendrils turn into full-blown flames. But despite his implacable voice, Jared’s eyes look uncertain. Is Jensen all right with this? Is he okay to play again? That’s what they seem to be asking, and Jensen hates that he gave Jared reason to doubt. He lets the heat show in his eyes. “In the bedroom?”

“Right here.”

In the kitchen. A public space. 

No one is home. They’ll hear the door in plenty of time if someone unexpectedly returns. Is this what Jared meant by easing Jensen into it?

He swallows, mouth suddenly dry, and undoes his trousers. Pushing them and his underwear down to his thighs, he turns around to bend over the table, moving the salad aside so he can get all the way down, chest pressed against the wood, ass thrust up and on show for Jared. 

Silence.

Jared’s looking at him, he must be. Why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he touching him?

“Jay?”

“You’re so good.” Jared’s voice trembles, but the hand he lays on Jensen’s lower back is warm and strong. “So good for me, and so beautiful.”

“I like being good for you.”

“You’re a ten, you know.” A finger traces the crest of his ass. “You’re more than ten. Can you be more than ten in that game? Because that’s what you are.”

Jared’s the one who’s ten. Or eleven, or twelve, or a hundred. But in this moment, being obedient for him and on show, Jensen feels fully his equal. 

“Am I still bruised?” he asks, his voice rough with the strength of emotion churning through him. 

“A little. It’s goin’ yellow. You have a tiny smudge of purple right here.” Jared’s thumb presses into a tender spot. 

Jensen wants the paddle again. He wants a thousand things. He’s so greedy to experience them all that he feels like he’ll choke on his own desire. He wants to beg Jared to spank him, to fuck him, to tie his hands through dinner, to make him wait to eat until Jared has, to make him eat on the floor—or to handfeed him like he did that magical day at school when he took control of Jensen completely. He wants to kneel at Jared’s side while they watch television, to try out being a footrest, or to warm Jared’s cock. They didn’t do that nearly enough. He hasn’t done it at all since he moved here. He wants so much he feels dizzy beneath the barrage of all the possibilities.

“Stay there like that while I set the table,” Jared says, making the decision for both of them and taking his hands off Jensen’s needy skin. “I wanna look at you. You’re a great table decoration.”

There’s barely any space, with Jensen taking up most of it, but Jared pushes him to the edge so half his chest is unsupported. It’s like Jensen is just one of the items he’s arranging on the table to prepare for dinner. A table decoration. Like flowers. There to look pretty. 

He might feel like an object and Jared might be treating him like one, but Jensen still feels like a ten. 


	4. Chapter 4

Jared’s week at school was frantic, so he hasn’t had time to put in the in-depth research he’s been craving since the night at the club. This is all stuff he should have looked at before, he thinks judgmentally of his former self, before he plunged Jensen headlong into the world of bdsm without even discussing it first. 

Thinking back, he’s not sure how they ended up there. He never intended it. His initial offer to Jensen was merely for sex, gay sex, not for kinks of all descriptions. How did it happen without him noticing what was going on enough for it to trigger warnings and the need for caution and research and discussions about limits and—at least he gave Jensen a safeword, he reminds himself. Maybe not the best one, his surname’s not that easy to say in a stressful moment, not the way Jensen’s is. But by the time he gave him the safeword, they were already well into it. 

The thing is, it all felt so natural. Then one thing led to another and suddenly there were blindfolds and bondage and orgasm control, and Jared was Jensen’s dom when Jensen didn’t even know the meaning of the word.

Apparently he knows now. But he’s got all his knowledge from the internet, which gave him God knows what kind of perception of it all, instead of from the man who’s been domming him from the start.

Jared should have known better. Jeff would have his head if he knew how little Jensen understood of the world Jared introduced him to. All week he’s burned to ask Jeff’s advice, but he’s been too embarrassed to admit to him how badly he fucked up. Because Jensen glowed on Sunday when Jeff asked how the club had been, Jeff didn’t know anything went amiss. He believes Jared was a good dom and Jensen was a happy sub, with no idea that Jared has done everything wrong from the start.

First things first. With Jensen safely at the rehearsal studio until six, he researches the psychological effects of being submissive just in case there’s something he missed about it making subs feel the way Jensen described feeling on Saturday night. 

No. That’s not normal. Jensen should never feel like a two. Fuck. Jared wants to punch something when he thinks about that. Preferably himself. Maybe he should quit basketball and take up kickboxing with Jensen. 

But there’s no point getting mad at himself in retrospect. What matters is doing better going forward. They’ve done well in identifying what Jensen felt and some reasons maybe why he experienced that. Jensen seems open and willing to debrief and delve into topics that could be uncomfortable or humiliating to discuss, which is invaluable. Jared has to meet him with equal courage. 

Last night was an experiment to see how Jensen feels about potential public play now. The problem at the club doesn’t seem to have inflicted lasting damage, which is a relief. Jared couldn’t forgive himself if he damaged Jensen through his carelessness. Jensen thrilled to it the way he used to, so turned on he stayed up far too late sucking Jared’s cock and rimming him. Jared let it happen because he couldn’t resist the temptation of Jensen so hungry and desperate for him, and while Jensen looked bleary-eyed and exhausted this morning, satisfaction danced around his smile when he kissed Jared goodbye at the door. 

Fuck but happy Jensen is intoxicating.

They decided last night that tomorrow they’ll talk. Jensen referenced wanting rules. That’s a hell of a lot more serious than Jared anticipated. Does he mean rules that apply to everyday life outside of play? They already have a rule about him not coming without permission. Is that the kind of thing he means? Jared wanted to ask him, but then Jensen’s mouth was full with his cock, his eyes closed in bliss, and Jared couldn’t bear to interrupt. 

To be safe, he looks up potentialities. The internet is full of crazy ideas, and he quickly stops. He doesn’t want Jensen bowing to him every morning and kissing his feet. He doesn’t want to decide what he wears or eats—and, yeah, he can’t imagine Jensen wanting him to. It’s not like Jensen’s a wild kid out of control who needs to be helped onto the straight and narrow with bedtimes enforced and behavioural problems corrected. If anything, it’s the other way around. Jared’s the one who could do with more discipline and accountability. He knows he’s lazy, because studying’s always come easy to him so he rarely tries hard, he’s not a fan of exercise, and he’s a terrible procrastinator. These are all things he should improve about himself. He can’t think of a single thing for Jensen to improve. Maybe being a little less rigid with the self-discipline? 

That’s probably why Jensen likes letting go so much. He never gets a chance the rest of the time. 

So maybe he wants rules to do with that. Jared can’t think of any. A rule that he can’t run every single day? Or that he has to eat at least one unhealthy meal a week? It sounds ridiculous. There must be a better way to frame that. 

He’d better wait to see what Jensen says tomorrow, since he’ll obviously know better than Jared the kind of rules he wants. 

But rules bring up the linked idea of punishment. Jensen likes punishment within play. If he wants non-play-related rules, does he want punishments attached to them? Real punishment? Jared’s not sure he can do that. He’s not sure he wants to.

That’s another thing. He needs to think about his own limits. He needs to know ahead of time what he’s not willing to do to Jensen, what responsibilities he’s not willing to assume.

He’s not taking charge of Jensen’s health, that’s for sure. On the other hand, he’s willing to commit to improving his own. His careless habits are unacceptable now he has a boyfriend and sister to care about him. If he can’t be bothered for himself, he can do it to give both of them the best version of himself that he can. 

Be better. There’s an ice hockey player whose motto is that, a really successful one, if he remembers correctly what Luke told him the night he took Jared to a game last Christmas. 

Be better. Jared can do that. In all aspects of his life.

That reminds him of the mountain of mail waiting for him about his future. He’s been ignoring it for weeks, unwilling to face up to the decisions it will require of him, but Jensen’s here now and Jared has a future to get invested in, which means he has to sort out his education. He’s ahead for his age, only has one year to go, but he doesn’t want to take a year off like Jensen plans to, he wants to finish and get through postgrad so he can teach properly. Full-time. Start earning a living that isn’t cobbled together out of whatever odd jobs he can scrounge up. There’s Jensen to think of, and the travel fund he wants to start for Megan. 

He has the money he won last month, at least. It financed his trip to Dallas, but there’s plenty left. He’d prefer not to use it to pay for education, since he’s sworn a vow to himself to never rely on gambling for essentials, but it’s a relief to know it’s there for emergencies and a few luxuries. Theatre tickets for dates with Jensen, for example. Maybe a flight for Megan to visit New York for a weekend. 

In the meantime, he has to face up to the pile of responses to the applications and queries he sent out in his haze of desperation to escape being around Jensen when the next school year resumed. He can’t even remember where he applied, he was mentally distancing himself from his actions because it all hurt too much to contemplate. There are responses. Maybe no good ones, maybe no one wanted him, but he needs to find out and then deal with it. It’s almost too late as it is. 

This afternoon. He will face them this afternoon so that he’s equipped with facts for his discussion tomorrow with Jensen about the future. 

But first he wants to finish preparing for their other discussion, the kinky one. He scribbles bullet points on the back of an envelope from his waiting pile. Track down a comprehensive checklist for them to work through as the basis of the conversation. Establish proper limits. Lay out whatever rules Jensen wants and come up with appropriate punishments, if desired. Decide what he’s willing to commit to from his side, and find out what Jensen wants to commit to from his. Determine how they want to hold themselves accountable. Figure out Jensen’s potential interest in pursuing exhibitionism and possible routes to ease into it. 

It feels overwhelming. It’s huge, if they want to do this properly, and as the dom, most of the responsibility will fall on him. 

Can he do this? Does he want to?

And then he remembers that right at this moment two miles away, Jensen is wearing the leather cuff Jared placed around his wrist on Saturday night, proudly proclaiming to anyone who knows what they’re looking at that he belongs to Jared, and there’s no doubt in his mind. 

***

He has mac and cheese ready when Jensen gets home. Jeff helped him make it before heading off to Brooklyn for a gig, and Zach stops to sample some on his way out. 

“I can’t believe you never cooked before Jensen came,” he says sulkily, taking a bigger helping than Jared intended. “I hope he never leaves you.”

Jared hopes so too. “Where are you going tonight, Zach?”

“Meeting friends.” Zach shrugs, his mouth full. “We’ll hit a couple of bars. You know. You and Jensen should come.”

Jared knows his boyfriend well enough to feel confident in turning down the invitation for them both. A loud, jarring environment packed with people is the last thing Jensen will want after his tough first week on the job. “Another time, though. When Jensen’s got more into his routine.”

“Gotta introduce him to the New York nightlife.”

They had enough of that last week, he thinks. “Jensen’s not a big nightlife person,” he says, glancing at his watch. Jensen’ll be here in the next few minutes, so he gets out the salad he prepared. “But yeah, in a couple weeks.” Actually, that’s not a bad idea, taking Jensen to a gay bar. No being on display or identifying as submissive in front of others, just being gay in public with other gay men. “Next weekend, if Jensen feels up to it.”

“Cool.” Zach dumps his plate in the sink without washing it. “Enjoy your boring evening at home.”

His evening at home alone with Jensen. What could be better?

Jared hears Jensen arrive as Zach leaves, and he’s setting the table when Jensen comes through the door.

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the doorway. “Something smells nice.”

“I made you a salad to go with it.” Jared bends down to remove the rest of the mac and cheese from where it’s keeping warm in the oven. “Sit. There’s beer, if you want.”

“I do want. I want beer and food and sleep and you.” Jensen moves forward to slump into a chair. “Not necessarily in that order. God, I’m tired.”

“How was today? You were doing script stuff?”

Opening the beer Jared puts in front of him, Jensen takes a long drink. “It was shit. A lot of arguments. Mark disappeared off to a production meeting halfway through and Caroline expected me to take over and I didn’t know what to do. They were talking about intentions and objectives and I still haven’t gone through the whole script to figure out what everything means so I didn’t know the answers to their questions, and this is not what I’m meant to be doing! I’m meant to be Mark’s assistant. I thought that meant I’d be, I don’t know, running errands, photocopying, picking up his dry cleaning. Not literally assisting him with directing the play.”

Jared serves him up a generous serving of pasta. “This will help you feel better. And here’s your salad.”

“Thank you.” Jensen blinks down at it as though the act of picking up his fork is too much. 

Jared could feed it to him, if he wanted. But they need to have their conversation before they do anymore, so he doesn’t offer. He picks up his own fork, hoping to inspire Jensen with his example. It works, and Jensen devours the lot.

“Sorry I’m too tired for much tonight,” he says as they wash the few dishes together, the way they’ve got into the habit of doing. “Maybe we could put a movie on in the bedroom?”

“Sure.” Jared had planned to suggest that. “Want a shower first?”

“Do I need one?”

Jensen usually showers in the morning, and Jared realises what he’s actually asking: does Jared intend to do anything tonight that needs Jensen specially cleaned. “No. It’s up to you, but no.” He dries the last plate and grabs two bottles of water. “Bring your beer and we can pick a movie.”

“I won’t make it to the end,” Jensen says, hanging up the dish towel, “so you pick.” He drains the last of his beer. “Water’s fine for me.”

Five minutes later they’re in Jared’s favourite position, lying on the bed with Jensen between his legs, the opening credits of something random Adam at school recommended to Jared playing on Jensen’s laptop. It’s not too hot, the air-conditioning mitigating the worst of the summer heat, but Jensen’s naked and Jared can’t help playing his fingers over his warm skin. 

“Sorry,” he says when he belated realises he’s fondling Jensen’s soft dick. “I didn’t meant to take free range with your body.”

“You can, though.” Jensen shifts on the covers, letting his legs fall open to give Jared better access. “It feels nice. Soothing.”

So Jared plays a bit more. He isn’t trying to turn Jensen on, but after half an hour, Jensen’s hard. Jared squeezes his erection. “You want me to do something about this?”

Jensen’s head is resting on his shoulder, his eyes have been closed for most of the movie, and his voice drags heavily when he mumbles, “Whatever you want.”

Whatever Jared wants. He wants Jensen to come. “I want you to come.”

“’kay. Don’ know if I can.”

“Want me to let you sleep?”

Jensen’s eyes open and he turns his head so he can look at Jared. “I want you to do whatever you want, even if I fall asleep.”

That’s venturing into territory to be discussed tomorrow. “So you’re okay with me feeling you up while you sleep?”

Jensen smiles, blinking like he’s struggling to keep his lashes up. “I know we’re talking tomorrow, but please feel free to do anything you like to my unconscious body.”

Anything he likes? “What if I gave you a tattoo?”

The quip makes Jensen laugh, as he’d hoped. “I might wake up for that,” he acknowledges.

He’s not reacting with horror, though. Tattoos aren’t a topic they’ve discussed before, so he doesn’t know Jensen’s general opinion on them. Jared likes them, but he’s never been able to afford the kind he wants—or, rather, he’s never wanted to waste money on things like that when he has tuition and rent and groceries to worry about. But it would be worth it for Jensen. If Jensen would consider letting Jared put a mark on him, getting some kind of tattoo, even a tiny one, that symbolises what they are together. 

He’s stopped breathing, he realises, and Jensen’s frowning quizzically at him. 

“Jay?”

“Sorry. Just—” Imagining Jensen with a permanent mark on his skin. His hand drifts down to the bruise he renewed on Jensen’s hip. It’s faded just like the paddle marks on his ass. What if he put something there permanently? Or, better still, something where it would be frequently seen, where Jensen could look down and see it whenever he wanted, like the cuff around his wrist.

Jensen wriggles between his legs, pressing his ass into the erection that’s suddenly hard against him. “Something else to discuss tomorrow,” he says, his lips quirking. “The question for now is, do you want me to do something about this?”

He’s throwing Jared’s own words back at him, and Jared gives up on the movie. He wasn’t watching it anyway. “Shall we do something about them both?”

***

Jensen feels strangely nervous in the morning. He slept well, asleep almost before he came in Jared’s hands after insisting on sucking Jared off first, and knowing he doesn’t have to go in to the studio today to face a thousand demands he can’t cope with means he wakes up feeling rested and peaceful. Jared’s still sound asleep, so Jensen eases away and into their private shower where he wakes up enough to start thinking about the conversation to come today. He wants it to go well. That means being honest about his desires, no matter how embarrassing or how needy it makes him look. 

He’s still trying to reconcile his need for personal autonomy with the state being submissive puts him into. When he thinks theoretically about being a two around other men who are tens, his belly throbs and his cock likes it. That’s one of the basics of his fantasies, maybe even being a one, or less than one. When he fantasises about being ignored, being treated like an object, being used—isn’t that what it means? When he wants his comfort and desire to be completely sublimated by the comfort and desire of someone else, as though he doesn’t matter and the other person is all-important, the sole importance, isn’t that theoretically turning him into a one or two to the other person’s ten? 

Like last night, he was desperate for sleep, it physically hurt to stay awake, but Jared wanted to touch him and play with him and Jensen feared he’d stop if Jensen drifted off, so he fought sleep off and then, when he felt Jared get hard, he forced himself to wake up enough to give him a spectacular blowjob and to let Jared get him off too, even though it was the last thing he felt like doing—and the act of doing that, of sacrificing his desire for sleep in order to give Jared what he wanted, was more gratifying even than coming. When he finally gave in to sleep, it was with the satisfaction that he’d earned it, that he’d fulfilled his purpose and been useful and pleasing.

There’s honestly nothing on earth he likes better than pleasing Jared. Than being whatever Jared wants him to be, doing whatever Jared wants him to do. 

Because it’s Jared. Because Jared’s pleasure, knowing that Jensen provided it, was responsible for it, is the ultimate satisfaction. 

So how does he reconcile that with his own self-worth as a human being? 

Being a two around Jared makes him feel like an eleven. 

Why did being a two around the men in the club make him feel small and weak and powerless? 

Trust, maybe. He trusts Jared to have his best interests at heart, to fiercely protect him and care for him and love him. 

Which means his exhibitionist fantasies probably need to remain fantasies, because what other men is he ever going to trust? 

He trudges into the kitchen to make coffee, trying not to feel too depressed. There are so many other fantasies he and Jared can explore, so many other things they can do. Losing out on one isn’t the end of everything. 

“Morning, Jensen.” Jeff shuffles through the door, his grey curls wildly loose around his head. He rubs his eyes and yawns. “Sorry. Late one last night. How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay.” Jensen’s only wearing a pair of shorts. “I didn’t think anyone would be up yet. I’ll go put a shirt on.”

Jeff slumps into a chair, waving a dismissive hand. “Not on my account, kid. This is your home. Dress as you please.”

“I don’t want to be, like, violating any communal living rules.” It’s Jeff’s house, after all. “If it’s inappropriate—”

Jeff lifts his head. His tired eyes are kind as they survey Jensen in his mostly naked state. “You’re fine. Besides, you’re no hardship to look at.”

It doesn’t feel bad, Jeff looking at him. It doesn’t make Jensen want to run back to Jared and hide. Maybe because he knows Jeff would never touch him, so he’s safe around the man. Letting Jeff look at him isn’t giving Jeff rights to do whatever he wants to him, it doesn’t mean Jensen can’t say no. 

It’s not making him feel like a two.

“Okay,” he says, and it comes out with gravity, like it’s a proclamation. “Can I make you coffee?”

“I’d appreciate it, thanks.” 

Jensen gets down a third mug and peels a banana while he waits for the coffee to be ready. He’s made coffee for Jeff before, since Jeff usually gets up around the time Jensen’s finishing off his breakfast before heading uptown to the studio, and he knows how he likes it. 

“So it’s your day off, huh?” Jeff comments behind him. “You two got any plans for the day?”

Jensen tries not to blush. Jeff knows they went to the club, he knows what they’re into, he obviously either is or used to be into it as well, but that really would be crossing a boundary to force details on him. “Um.” He dumps sweetener into Jeff’s mug. “I want to check out Luke’s gym,” he says. Inappropriate thoughts under control, he turns to hand the mug to Jeff. “I haven’t had a chance to go all week and my body’s desperate for a workout.”

“It’s a good setup.” Jeff nods. He holds up the coffee. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Luke said Jared joined too?”

“He did. Now I have to get him there.”

“You’re a good influence on that boy.”

Jensen likes that. He wants to be a good influence on Jared. He wants to be everything good for Jared. His smile feels too big for his face. Can Jeff see how much it pleases him? 

“You’re still wearing that, I see.”

Oh yes. Jensen’s wearing more than just shorts. “Yeah.” They both stare at the cuff on his wrist. “It’s okay, right? For me to wear it?” It’s plain, nothing about it ostentatiously announces kink. He’s noticed other men wearing similar adornments on their arms around the city, of varying widths and decoration, and around their necks, too. Leather as a fashion statement seems to be in. No one’s asked him about it at work, not even Oliver. 

“Are you wearing it as jewellery, or—” Jeff’s question stops when Jensen shakes his head. “Do you know what it means?”

It’s a question he’s asked Jensen before, but that was in the context of wearing it to Steel Rose. “I do.”

Jeff studies him. “It’s a lot, kid.”

“I know.”

“You’re pretty young for a commitment like that.”

They’re old enough to get married. “It’s more—” How does Jensen put this without being too graphic? “Like a promise. An engagement. We’re still working things out.”

Consideringly, Jeff nods. “Were you into this kind of thing before you met Jared?”

The question feels intrusive, but Jensen knows Jeff’s asking out of concern for his well-being. “I wasn’t even gay before I met Jared,” he says. No, that’s not quite true. “I mean, I hadn’t accepted I was,” he corrects himself. “I never let myself think about it. I didn’t think about sex, since I wasn’t interested in having it with my girlfriend. So, no. I didn’t know this kind of thing existed.” His fists clench around the back of one of the chairs and he fights embarrassment as he admits, “But I’m the one who wants it. Jared isn’t forcing me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good.” Jeff regards him thoughtfully. “So you identify as submissive?”

“Yeah.” 

“As Jared’s submissive?”

Jensen nods. “It’s—” Does Jeff really want this much information? But he’s the one asking and he looks like he wants Jensen to continue, so Jensen does. “It’s as much about Jared as it is being submissive,” he says. “I don’t want to be submissive to anyone else. Just him.”

“I see.”

“Is that—” Jensen hesitates. “—normal?”

Setting his coffee down, Jeff nods. “It’s absolutely normal,” he says emphatically. He wraps his hands around the mug and looks up at Jensen. “Being submissive doesn’t mean you have to submit to everyone. It doesn’t even mean you have to submit all the time. You do what works for you.”

“And Jared,” Jensen says, and Jeff laughs.

“Yeah, and Jared. You find what works for you both.” He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s not necessarily easy, you might take a few wrong turns, but if you work together and communicate with honesty and openness, you can create something special between you.”

That’s what Jensen wants. That’s what today is for. Taking a sip of his own coffee, he thinks about it. “Jeff, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“It’s okay, right? Wanting to submit? Wanting to be hurt? Wanting to be—” _Less than Jared,_ he’s about to say, but that’s not right. “Wanting to let him take control and make decisions and, I don’t know, do whatever he wants with me.” He’s still not got it right. “Making his will the priority, rather than mine. Like, mine doesn’t matter. Like I don’t matter, except I do, but I don’t want to matter, I want him to matter.” God, what a mess. A sigh squeezes through his tightening throat. “I don’t know how to phrase it to make it sound okay.”

“Has that been bothering you?”

“It didn’t, until we went to the club. It felt natural before, and I didn’t think about it, I didn’t judge it. It was right between us, and I loved it. But going there, letting other people see, it confused things.”

“Have you talked to Jared about this?”

“Yeah.” Jensen catches his lower lip between his teeth, evaluating how much he can say without violating Jared’s privacy. “I don’t know how to explain without him thinking he’s doing something to make me feel like that. He’s not. It’s not him, he’s wonderful. It’s me.”

“Okay,” Jeff says. “Jensen, sit down a second.”

Jensen sits.

Jeff gives him a direct look. “First of all, it’s natural for you to worry about that. This is a mindfuck, after all. And it’s totally fine if what turns you on is giving Jared pleasure and being obedient and serving him.”

It’s not fine that Jensen’s getting turned on by those words. Thank God he’s sitting behind the table. His face flames and he struggles to hold eye contact. “It doesn’t mean I think I’m less than him, though, right?”

“Not at all. If I thought you believed that and that’s why you were doing this, I’d counsel you both against it. You don’t need Jared to tell you what to do in order to function. You’re not manipulating him to treat you badly because you think you don’t deserve anything better. You do it because you love it. I’ve seen the way you glow.”

Jensen blushes harder. He must be glowing red right now. 

“You’re not less than Jared for wanting to submit to him.”

“Even if I—” He could not feel more embarrassed. “Even if I get turned on thinking of him as a ten and me as a two?”

Jeff doesn’t know about the theatre game, but he seems to follow the logic. “Do you believe you’re a two compared to Jared?”

“No.”

“What would you rate yourself as? Normally, outside of this.”

“I feel equal to him.”

“Okay.” Jeff dips his head in a short nod. “That’s great. As long as you don’t lose sight of that—and I don’t believe you will—you’re fine getting turned on by whatever you like.”

That’s encouraging. But he has one last question and it takes several deep breaths to find the courage to ask it. “Do you think I’m a two?”

Jeff doesn’t react. “In reality?”

“No, when I’m—you’re a dom, right?” Jensen’s pretty sure of that, but it’s reassuring when Jeff nods. “So if you think of me as a submissive—me being Jared’s submissive, I mean—do you think that I’m a two compared to you?”

“To me personally? To me as a dom, you mean?”

“Yeah. Like, if you—” Oh God, this is far too much detail and if his face gets any hotter, it’ll melt right off. But Jeff doesn’t look like he’d accept Jensen running away from the conversation, so he says as quickly as he can, “Like if you saw Jared doing stuff to me, like hurting me, would you think I was—you know.”

“No.” Jeff’s voice is implacable. “I wouldn’t. A true, psychologically healthy submissive like you, Jensen, is a rare and wonderful find. I’d be in awe of you. I _am_ in awe of you. It takes a huge amount of courage and strength to hand over control to someone, to trust them, to let them treat you like that. I wouldn’t think you’re a two at all in comparison to me as a dom. On what I’m assuming is a one-to-ten scale of yours, I’d think you were an eleven.”

Oh. He tries to process that. “It doesn’t feel like it’s a big thing to do,” he says, “turning myself over to Jared. I want it so badly it’s hard to hold myself back sometimes.”

A warm smile breaks across Jeff’s serious face. “And that’s why you’re such a treasure. It’s great that you’ve found Jared. You couldn’t ask for anyone better to explore this with.”

“I know.” Jensen has no doubt. “I don’t think I’d want it with anyone else. But I’m glad it’s him. I know he loves me and he’ll take care of me and he—” All right, now he’s getting sappy. “And I’d better get this coffee to him and wake him up. Thanks, Jeff.”

“Any time. I mean it.”

“Thank you.” Jensen pauses in the doorway. “It’s very much appreciated.”

And it is. It’s helped, getting the point of view of another, non-threatening, dom who isn’t emotionally invested in Jensen. He feels much more stable for the conversation to come with Jared about their future. 


	5. Chapter 5

Like in the old days, they dedicate the morning to chores and necessities. Jared did their laundry yesterday, Jensen discovers, and he brushes it off as though it was no big deal. “I have more time off than you do,” he insists, “so it makes sense.” It does make sense, but Jensen’s determined not to take advantage. It’s bad enough that Jared’s cooking for Jensen too. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jared says when he mentions that while they’re buying groceries. “You’re still settling in, and I want to do this. I like doing it. You can take your turn when I have midterms or something.”

“So you’re going to finish your degree here?” Jensen says it casually, like it’s no big deal. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah.” Jared holds up two boxes of cereal, one filled with sugar, the other a bit healthier. “Which one?”

“Oatmeal.” Jensen reaches past him to grab it from the shelf. “I need more energy at work than two slices of toast were giving me, and I don’t want to keep snacking there. You should try it. It’s great with blueberries. Or strawberries, or any berries. Or banana. You like bananas.”

In the past, Jared would have scoffed at the suggestion, but to Jensen’s surprise he puts both boxes of cereal back. “I like blueberries too. Let’s get two packs. Yeah, I got into a couple schools here,” he continues as they resume walking, “and I even got a scholarship offer with one. I was gonna tell you about it today, see what you think. NYU’s really close, so, yeah.” He shrugs, as though none of that’s a big deal. “A professor of mine from freshman year is there now, and I really liked him. He wants me to come there pretty bad. I thought it might be too late, but I called yesterday and he can still make it happen.”

“You called yesterday?”

Jared’s eyes drop away from Jensen’s. “I was kinda in denial about the whole thing until you came.”

They messed each other up so badly. They were so close to never having this. “That’s great news, though.” Jensen keeps his voice light, as if their painful history isn’t digging a knife through him. “And you can still get your degree next year?”

“Yeah. Then post-grad and I can teach. Like, for real.” Jared fidgets with his t-shirt, still not meeting Jensen’s eyes. “Are you okay with me doing that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know.” Jared shrugs, as if the shirt’s not fitting him correctly across the shoulders and he’s trying to get it back into place. 

Jensen itches to reach out and straighten it for him. Does he dare, here in this grocery store? He lays what he hopes seems like a casual hand on Jared’s shoulder, and Jared darts a glance up from his fixation with the boxes of cereal bars on the right.

“It’s just the kind of thing we need to check with each other now, right?” he clarifies. “Life plans?”

“I’m hoping Mark will need me for his next show,” Jensen offers in return, because Jared’s right, this is part of what they need to discuss. “But after that, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“When is the next show?”

“It opens right before Thanksgiving, and it starts rehearsals two or three weeks after this one opens. He’s going back to the UK to do a pantomime after that, though, and he’s still lining up work for next year so I don’t know if there’s any kind of future for me there.”

Jared lets him steer them around the corner of the aisle. Beneath Jensen’s hand, his taut muscles have eased. “Do you want there to be?”

“I’m not sure. It’s so crazy different to anything I expected to do with my life.” It’s horrifying to think he could still be trapped back in Dallas drudging his way through all those endless financial reports with no deviation in sight. “Ask me in a week or two, when I no longer feel like I’m drowning.”

After the grocery run, they head to the gym. Luke’s with a client, so they send him a wave and get to work. It doesn’t take Jared long to pick up where he left off two months ago and Jensen enjoys having a workout buddy again. They spot each other, then he drags Jared toward the treadmills. “It’s this or I go for a run later when it’s cooler outside, but there are other things I’d rather be doing by then.”

“Why don’t you get up with me tomorrow and go for a run before work like you used to do before class?”

Jensen prioritised sleep last week, which he’d needed, but his body starts feeling like there’s no oxygen moving around inside it when he doesn’t get in regular cardio. Before work sounds like a good idea, and he should take his kit to the studio with him so he can hit the weights on his way home. He needs a proper schedule, now he knows what to expect from play rehearsals. 

“Yeah?” Jared wheedles, seeing that Jensen’s considering it. “Good idea, right? Great idea! Let’s do it and go home now and get a head start on those _other things._ ”

“Fine,” he concedes. “Lead the way.”

They hit the showers and find Luke, finished with his client, hanging out chatting to the super fit girl who’s behind the reception desk when they leave. “Hey, guys, how was it?”

“Tiring.” Jared drapes himself over Jensen as though he can’t stand any longer. “I’ve no idea why you two love this shit.”

Luke shakes his head. “You have excellent form. I’m impressed.”

“It’s all Jensen’s doing. He taught me everything I know.”

“Yeah?” Luke turns to Jensen. “You were good too. You’ve no idea how many guys come through here who have no idea how to lift weights safely. Or appropriately. Did you have a trainer back in Texas?”

“I picked it up as I went along,” Jensen answers. He noticed several gay men inside, so he presumes this is a gay-friendly gym. That gives him the courage to pull Jared’s arms around his neck from behind to link over his chest. “I got into it in high school.” Around the time he had to quit theatre and join the football team. “I did a lot of research online and experimented. That’s why I could help Jared with his very different body to mine.”

“Not bad.” Luke jumps off the desk he’s sitting on. “Almost time for my next client. Lila, I live with these two so they get staff discount for everything. Make sure everyone knows.”

“Sure.” Lila turns her bright smile on them for a second, but then she’s right back to Luke. “Is it the dentist again today?”

Luke groans. “Don’t remind me. You know what he wants to do now?”

“I think we can go,” Jared whispers in Jensen’s ear, and they sidle out, relieved they’re not a captive audience to Luke’s outrage about the latest unrealistic goal his dentist client wants to set. 

Jeff has lunch waiting when they get home, so they’re side-tracked into that for an hour. Jensen feels uncomfortable at first, after having revealed so much this morning, but Jeff answers an awkward question of his about the music he plays by going into a long reminiscence about the band he used to be in, and that entertains even Zach, who slinks in halfway through. 

It feels like the day’s lasted forever when at last he can close their bedroom door and shut out the world. 

Jared flops down on the bed. “Come join me.”

It’s tempting. His nerves have returned and he wants the comfort of Jared’s big, steady body against him. But that will lead to other things too quickly. “No,” he says. “No touching. Not until we’re done talking.”

“Seriously?” Scooting up to a sitting position, Jared sighs. “No, you’re right. Can you pass me my laptop? Where do you want to sit?”

Jensen picks cross-legged on the floor. The bedroom’s carpeted, and he can lean against the wall with a good view of Jared but too far away to touch. “Why do you need your laptop?” he asks, passing it over.

“I have lists.”

“You have lists?” Lists are Jensen’s department. “What kind of lists?”

“First, a list of topics to discuss.”

“Like an agenda?”

“Exactly.” Jared blows him a kiss. His eyes are sparkling; he doesn’t look nervous at all now they’re getting down to the main purpose of the day. “Feel free to add whatever you want to it. I didn’t want to forget anything important, so I wrote mine down.”

“You said _first_. What other lists? Do I need my laptop too?”

“I can email you the second list if you’d rather look at it, but I thought we could go through each item together, discussing them as we go.” Swivelling his laptop, Jared tilts it so Jensen can see what looks like a multiple choice quiz. “It’s called a checklist and it lists all kinds of, you know, kinky things we might be into. Or not. There are columns to mark if we have experienced them, if we like them, if we want more of them, or don’t want them at all. It seems like an organised way to approach things.”

That appeals to Jensen. “I like it. Is that it?”

“Those are my only lists.”

“Let’s start with your agenda.”

“I think I’ll email them both to you so you can keep track on your phone, if you want.”

Jensen’s phone pings. “Got it.” He opens the first attachment. 

_“Checklist_

_“Hard limits_

_“Dom/sub?_

_“Collar_

_“Rules/punishments?_

_“My side and your side_

_“Public play”_

“Wow. That’s real thorough.”

“You want to add anything?”

“What’s ‘My side and your side’?”

Shifting sideways on the bed, Jared crosses his legs beneath him, mirroring Jensen. “I was thinking about ways to live.” Shaking his head, he slashes a negating hand through the air. “That sounds pretentious. I was thinking about rules and that made me think not of rules, as such, but of things we each want to commit to. There’s this ice hockey player, I can’t remember his name, but he won a bunch of Stanley Cups and his personal motto is Be Better, and I liked that for us. For me, at least, and for you if you want to.”

Be Better. Jensen’s father would approve of that one. So would Dianne. “I like that.”

“Yeah?” Jared’s face lights up. “So ‘my side and your side’ means things we want to commit to doing or being, and they’ll be different for each of us. The one I thought of was I want to commit to being healthier. I didn’t bother much in the past, I wasn’t real invested in having a long life or caring about the future, but now I do, I am. I want to be here for you and Megan, and I want to be my best self for you, so committing to making healthy decisions is one of the ones from my side.”

That would explain the oatmeal. “Cardio is good for you, Jared,” Jensen says severely. “No shirking next time.”

“That’s another thing.” Jared acknowledges Jensen’s scolding with a grin, but he holds up a pointed finger. “What I didn’t put on there because I didn’t know how to phrase it was how we hold each other accountable for what we commit to. This is probably a topic we need to think about for a while, but yeah, I put it on there because I didn’t want to forget to mention it to you.”

“I’m glad you did.” Ideas whirl through Jensen’s mind. “Honesty’s one I want. I lied to too many people before, and I wouldn’t even admit to myself they were lies. I want to commit to complete honesty with you, and—and integrity with everyone else in my life.” 

“Not honesty with them too?”

He winces. “My mom asked me how we celebrated your birthday. I thought it better not to be too honest about that.”

“Ah, I see what you mean. Good thinking. Integrity,” Jared muses. “I like that. I want to make that commitment too, and the same one about honesty with you.”

“And holding each other accountable means we are allowed to call the other one out on it if we think they’re not being honest or acting with integrity. And we agree not to take offense or get defensive, but to consider our actions with an open mind and amend them if necessary.”

“You’re good at this.”

Jared usually looks at him like that in a very different context. No distractions, Jensen reminds himself firmly. “I want to think about it, like you said. I’m sure I’ll have other commitments to make.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jared looks pleased. “Okay, that’s that one.”

Jensen consults the agenda. “Why is there a question mark next to ‘Dom/sub’?”

“Because I wanted to ask you about that one.” Impatiently brushing his hair out of his face, Jared leans forward. “We kind of got into this without discussing it and just started doing things. I didn’t know if you want an official label. You know what those mean, right?”

“Google, Jared.” Jensen holds up his phone. “I found out along the way. Because I’m submissive to you, that makes me a sub....and you’re my dom?”

Setting the laptop aside, Jared nods. “That’s terminology that’s frequently used. But we don’t have to use it. We can continue like we have been. It’s up to you.” He catches himself with a grimace. “Sorry. I can try and stop saying that.”

God, Jensen loves him. “It’s okay in normal life. I don’t want you to suddenly start making all my decisions for me.”

“Good.” Jared sounds relieved. “I don’t think I’d be good at that.”

“Is that why there’s a question mark after ‘Rules/punishments’ as well?”

Nodding, Jared slides off the bed so he’s sitting on the floor opposite Jensen, also cross-legged. Apparently he’s feeling the same need Jensen is to be closer, and Jensen unfolds one of his legs, straightening it so his bare toes brush Jared’s foot. Immediately, Jared uncrosses his legs and their feet tangle together. “You said you wanted rules,” he says. “I didn’t know what kind of rules you meant, but I thought about it. Did you mean rules for everyday life or only when we play?”

This is the big one. “I meant both.”

“You want me to give you rules for your normal life? Like what? Like what time to go to bed, that kind of thing?”

“No.” Jensen’s still not certain on this himself. “Like you controlling when I get to come. We had a rule at school that I wasn’t allowed to get myself off and it applied at all times, whether we were playing or not. Even after we broke up and I was in Texas, I didn’t want to break it. Rules like that.”

“Okay.” Nodding slowly, Jared considers what Jensen’s said. “So do you have ideas of other rules you’d like?”

“This plays into what you said about labels. I don’t know if I want labels. What I do want,” and he needs to get this right, “is to be yours. I don’t know what label fits that. But that’s how I think about myself. I’m yours, to be used for your pleasure. That’s the way I see us inside my head. Is that—does that work for you?”

***

Given how badly he wants to jump Jensen, Jared would say it works for him. It works so fucking well he can’t reply because his mouth’s gone abruptly dry with desire. He nods quickly, in case Jensen misinterprets his lack of response. “It works.” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, trying to swallow, to seem like someone in control of himself and not bursting into ecstasy. “If you—if you’re mine, does that mean I’m yours too?”

Jensen regards him seriously. “If you want to be. Not in the same way, obviously.”

“Your pleasure also matters,” Jared points out. “I mean, that’s why we do this, because you like it. And I love giving you pleasure.”

Does Jensen have any idea that he’s rubbing his fingers up and down his phone as though it’s a cock as he thinks? “You’re in charge of my pleasure,” he says, his fingers pausing as he looks up at Jared. “I’m yours to be used for your pleasure, and you’re mine in charge of my pleasure.”

Yes. Jared likes that. Reciprocal. Not just him using Jensen to fulfil his own unexpectedly sadistic desires. “And to be clear, you want this to apply at all times?”

Jensen nods. “Like at school. You’re in charge of my pleasure at all times. There is no time when I can make a decision about it. I can ask you, sure, so you know what I want, but it’s solely up to you. Always.”

“What happens if we’re fighting and you want to jerk yourself off because you’re mad at me?”

“Then you punish me when we make up.”

Punishment. The other half of rules. “What if you don’t want to be punished?”

“I do.”

Apparently for Jensen it’s that simple. “What if you change your mind?”

“I won’t.” Reading in Jared’s face that that answer isn’t acceptable, Jensen amends, “If I do, like, fundamentally, then we can discuss it. We can have regular check-ins, say once a month, to make sure we’re both happy with how things are, with an option for an emergency check-in that can be exercised by either of us at any time. How about that?”

That could work. But before he gets into details of punishments, he needs more clarification on rules. “What other kind of rules were you thinking of?”

“I always let you know where I am and check with you first before accepting any invitations,” Jensen says promptly.

“Am I allowed to tell you that you can’t go?”

“Of course. If you want me with you instead, then I’d rather be with you. Or even—” Jensen falters here. “Even if you just want me to come home and stay at home alone while you’re out somewhere, just because you want me to be home waiting for you.”

He shouldn’t like the sound of that, it’s selfish and greedy and cruel, but his stomach clenches and he knows Jensen can see the way his cock responds through the thin sweats he put on after the gym. “That wouldn’t be fair of me.”

“Jared.” Jensen shifts closer across the carpet, his voice deep with intent. “I would rather be sitting here on the floor staring at the wall all evening because you told me to than do anything else because I chose to.”

He could have him kneel in the corner. Eyes closed. For hours. While Jared went to a bar with Adam and drank and laughed and had fun, knowing Jensen was home, alone, obediently waiting. Jensen would do that for him. Jensen would thrill to do that for him, judging by the state of his own cock when Jared checks.

“What if someone offered you a free ticket to the latest Broadway hit,” he manages, “and I said no, wait for me at home instead?”

“I would go home and wait.”

“And resent me?”

“Maybe if you took too long to come home and fuck me through the bed.”

Jared feels dizzy. Jensen’s offering too much, and he doesn’t know how he feels about wanting it so badly. “Any other rules you want?”

“That you can use my body however you like, whenever you want.”

The sound Jared makes doesn’t sound human. “Don’t say things like that!”

Jensen, evil creature that he is, laughs. “I’m answering your question,” he says innocently. “I want that to be a rule, that my body belongs to you to use whenever you want, for whatever you want.”

“That’s not possible.”

“It is if we want it to be.”

“It’s too much.”

“Only if you abuse it.”

“What if I do?”

“Then I’ll call an emergency check-in and complain.”

“Jensen.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Jared squeezes his eyes closed. How can Jensen trust him like this? “What if I want to fuck you on your hands and knees in Times Square?”

“You won’t,” Jensen points out logically. “I mean, you might want to, but you won’t do it. Although if you did, I’d be on my knees as soon as you said so.”

Why does it feel like he can’t swallow? He picks something legal. “What if I want to tie you up every night while you sleep? What if I want you to sleep with your hands cuffed behind your back?” 

“Can we try that?”

“What if—” What might Jensen not want to do? “What if I don’t want to fuck you for a month but just use you as a table in the corner with the lamp balanced on your back whenever you’re home?”

Jensen eyes the lamp like he’s working out how easily it will balance. “I want to try that.”

“For a month,” Jared says desperately. “Didn’t you hear me? An entire fucking month of no fucking, no cuddling, you’d come home, eat, get undressed and be a table while I lie in bed and read and pile my books on you.”

“Jared, seriously, I want to try that.”

“Ugh!” Jared pulls at his hair so hard some of it rips out of his scalp. The pricks of pain calm him down. Slightly. “Stop looking at the bedside table, Jensen.”

“Sorry.” Obediently, Jensen returns his attention to Jared. The glazed sheen to his eyes, however, means he’s still lost in fantasyland. 

“Is there anything you _don’t_ want me to do to you?” Jared asks in despair.

Some of the haze in Jensen’s eyes clears. “I’m sure there is,” he says, “but even if it’s something I don’t like, the fact _you_ want to it to me means I want you to. I can’t explain it. It’s how I am. What I want.” He moves closer, tucking his legs under him, and rests his hand on Jared’s thigh. “I know you wouldn’t want to do something like punch my face in or burn scars into me—”

“What the hell have you been reading?” Jared’s horrified. 

Jensen’s hands fly into the air in a gesture of innocence. “I’m just saying. You were worried about what you might want to do to me—”

“I’d _never_ want something like that.” He feels distinctly sick at the thought. “What the fuck, Jensen?”

“No, I know. That’s why I can say this. When you were trying to think of the worst possible thing you could inflict on me, things like that didn’t enter your head. That’s why I know I’m safe with you.”

“I will never damage you. Not intentionally. Not ever. Not even if you want me to, you understand?” This is important. “That’s a hard limit for me. Very hard. Unnegotiable.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I agree. I don’t want to be damaged. And while we’re on this topic, I don’t want to damage you. So if I want something more extreme than you’re comfortable with, then tell me and I won’t push it. I don’t want you to ever do something for me that you don’t want to do. Is this one of them? Because, Jared, if you don’t want that kind of control of me, say so.”

That isn’t the problem. He wants it too badly, so much it scares him. “Can we take it slow?” he says instead, and Jensen smiles, his lips pressed together, but quirking up at the edges. 

“It’s up to you, he says with deliberate reference to earlier. “I’d like to be available for your use and your pleasure. What you actually do with me is totally up to you.”

Clever boy. For being so smug, Jared leans forward to kiss him on the end of his nose. “That means I can do things like this whenever I want.”

Jensen’s smile turns to a full-out grin. “Yes, it does.”

He digs his hands into Jensen’s hair, holding his head captive while he gives him a slow, wet lick up his cheek. “And this.”

“Yes.”

It hurts, but he says, “And I can order you to go sit in that corner by the window so we can continue this conversation without interruption.”

“Absolutely.” 

But Jensen doesn’t move. Jared lifts his brows. “So?”

“You’re still holding my hair.”

“Oh.” He lets go. “Go sit in that corner, legs crossed, like before. It gives me a good view.”

The corner’s two metres away, if that. Jensen glances at it, places his phone between his teeth, and crawls there.

Jared slams his hand down on that deliberately tempting ass as hard as he can.

“Ow.”

“Stop tantalizing me.”

“Just wanted to give you another nice view,” Jensen says cheekily. “And now my ass hurts and it feels wonderful, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jared says automatically. But hang on. “No, wait, you’re not. You’re confusing me. Distracting me. Back to the list. What were we talking about? Oh yeah, rules. Is that it for the rules you want?”

Before answering, Jensen shuffles around in the corner, making himself comfortable. He’s too far away and Jared misses him already, but the afternoon is ticking away and they haven’t even reached the checklists yet. “I have some other ideas.”

“Tell me.”

“When we play, you make all the rules. I know we do that anyway, but I like that. I like it when you make arbitrary rules or crazy rules I can’t possibly keep so then you get to punish me. I like rules in play a lot. And I think you do too?”

He does. “I’m good with that.”

“And then I had a list of other things, things I’d like accountability for, and maybe this would go as part of the ‘my side’ we discussed earlier. I don’t know if you’re comfortable having them as rules you punish me for.”

Jensen’s thought about this in depth. That’s good, it means he’s worked his way through and considered what he’s saying now. It’s not born out of a temporary rush of lust. “What do you have in mind?”

“Things like not being late, always treating people with respect, eating well, not neglecting exercise, taking breaks when I start getting stressed. Those are big ones, but then I’d also like random little ones. Not all the time, but now and then when you’re in the mood to give them to me, kinda for fun. Like I’m not allowed to swear all day. Or I have to ask your permission to use the bathroom, that kind of thing.”

Whoa. This is a lot. “And what happens if you break them?”

“The little ones? You can set the punishment when you tell me the rule for the day, if you want. Like, if I swear, you’ll wash my mouth out with soap.”

“You want me to do that?” Jared’s stunned.

“Of course I don’t.” Jensen laughs. “It’s awful. I know from experience. My mother did it to me when I was a kid. But the idea of you doing it is hot. You doing it specifically to punish me. Because I broke a rule you gave me.”

Jared can see how much fun they could have with this. His mind plays with the possibilities, with ideas of arbitrary rules with premeditated punishments. It’s like they do in play, only bigger. Encompassing more of their lives. “What about the other ones? The big ones that always apply?”

“I thought for those, there could be two sides to it. One would be you calling me out on slipping up, like I don’t usually notice when I get carried away with stress. Remember during finals when you made me stop studying and warm your cock instead?”

Jared definitely remembers. He had severe trouble writing his dynamical systems final the next morning because too many of the theories reminded him of the heat of Jensen’s mouth when he was reviewing them. “I remember.”

“The other would be me confessing to you if I broke them. You obviously wouldn’t know if I was rude to someone because I got impatient, or if I got back from lunch five minutes late.”

Neither sounds like Jensen. “You want me to punish you because you were late for work?”

Jensen nods, like he’s relieved Jared’s following. “If you’re okay with that.”

Jared wouldn’t want to live with such restrictions himself, but Jensen’s always liked extreme discipline. “Okay, if I am, then what kind of punishments did you have in mind? It doesn’t seem particularly fair to spank you for being late when you love being spanked.” He frowns. “You actually love everything. What am I meant to do to you, Jensen, that you won’t like?”

“We can find things I don’t like. Or—or it can be in the way you carry it out. It won’t be done as fun, but as correction. We can experiment.”

Jared isn’t sure exactly what Jensen is looking for from him? “We can try,” he says. “What if it goes wrong?”

“Then we discuss it. But only if you want to, Jared. If you don’t, if it would be boring for you, or a burden, then I don’t want it. I just thought—I know you enjoy punishment games, so maybe you’d be into this, too.”

He is, Jared thinks. In fact, he’s worried he might be too into it and annoy Jensen by being overbearingly strict. “I still want you to be you, though. I don’t want to change you.”

“These are things I want in order to be better, as you put it. To be my best self. And it’s the kind of accountability I want. For example, the punishment for me being late for anything could be having to stand with my nose in the corner for however many minutes I was late, possibly on Sunday mornings when we have time, thus depriving me of time with you.” His eyes catch on Jared’s with a twinkle. “And you could make me stand there naked so you can enjoy the view while you mark books or study or otherwise productively use the time I’ve wasted of other people’s time that week.”

That makes sense. “What if you were late because there was a delay on the subway so it wasn’t your fault?”

“Still counts.”

“It does?”

“Otherwise I’ll try to argue my way out of things. It doesn’t change the fact that I was late and wasted someone else’s time.”

It can work. The rules need refining, he wants them written down, clear definitions and specific punishments, but Jensen seems to have that well in hand. “I want you to send me a list,” he says, going through it in his mind. “You can have a week, because I know you’re busy, but the sooner you send it to me, the sooner we can start. I want you to write all of this down, be specific with rules and punishments. I want you to suggest punishments you find appropriate, with the proviso that I can choose to use them or substitute anything else I so choose.”

Jensen’s eyes flair as he understands that this is Jared agreeing. “I can write it tomorrow night. I already know what to write.”

“Okay. Tomorrow night. But be sure about what you put in those rules, because I will enforce them. No exceptions. You’ll be gettin’ exactly what you deserve.”

“Yes.” Jensen’s voice is husky. “Yes, please.”

What a beautiful boy Jared has. So desperate to be obedient and good, to be taken in hand and cared for. Jared wants to kiss him for being so perfect, but kisses will lead to more, and they’ve only covered three of the topics on his agenda. He scans through it. Hard limits will be covered as part of the checklist, which he wants to end with. That leaves public play and Jensen’s collar. “Can we table public play?”

Waking up his phone, Jensen rechecks the agenda. “Yeah, sure. Why?”

“Because I think we have enough to get going with, and that deserves its own conversation, preferably when I’ve got more than three brain cells working.”

That gets a laugh, but it’s strained. Jensen’s not doing much better than Jared is. “As long as we don’t table it forever. You said you had ideas for easing into it.”

“I do. Just maybe not yet.”

“Okay. It’s in your hands.”

“Zach invited us to join him at a gay bar or two. How’s that for a first step?”

“I’m already gay in public,” Jensen informs him. “I told everyone at work, I meant to tell you. I told Oliver privately, but on Thursday in the coffee area there were a bunch of us and Naomi was talking about a disaster of a present she gave her boyfriend for Valentine’s Day and everyone was chiming in with their own romantic disaster stories. When they asked me, I said I wasn’t with my boyfriend yet for this year’s Valentine’s Day, but now at least I know what to avoid for next year.” He looks pleased with himself. “It was scary to say, but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to come out to most of them, and now everyone knows.”

“Clever thinking.” Jensen will never stop surprising him. “Well done.”

“I understand a bit of what you were like now,” Jensen says. He straightens out in the corner, then freezes, apparently remembering Jared’s order about how to sit, and eases his legs back into their crossed position. “You were, like, almost aggressively gay. You never wanted to hide it. I want everyone to know about me. I don’t want to keep it secret from anyone. And I’m sorry for making you lie to my parents for so long. It didn’t seem a big deal to me at the time, but I get it now.”

“It’s okay.” Jensen’s probably got pins and needles, which is why he wanted to move. But he’s back in position and only minute shifts of his weight indicate discomfort. Jared should let him stretch out. Perversely, he doesn’t want to. He wants to inflict this pointless, unnecessary pain on Jensen just because he can. Because Jensen gave him permission to. “I didn’t like lying to them, but I was willing to do it for you.”

“No more. I’m out to everyone now. Just like you.”

Who ever would have imagined they’d reach this point on that night Jensen fled his living room? Jared’s fiercely proud of him. But why were they discussing this? Oh yes, the gay bar. “So the next step is hanging out with me in a place where we don’t have to be discreet. Where I can kiss you in front of everyone, where I can dance with you and feel you up with obvious intent, and make other men jealous because you’re mine and not theirs.”

That gets Jensen going. His fractional shifting stops and his eyes go wide. “I like the sound of that.”

“And we can see how it goes in practice. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jensen’s tongue pokes out, worrying at his upper lip. “You really think they’d be jealous?”

Over Jensen? “For sure.”

“But I’m—kind of average.”

“Trust me, you’re not.”

“Next to you, I don’t know why anyone would look at me.”

Jared’s always done well for himself hooking up. He knows he’s attractive, especially to certain types. But he doesn’t hold a candle to Jensen’s ethereal beauty. Does he really not get how dazzling he is? “Trust me,” he says again. “They’ll want you. But you know what? None of them get to have you. Only me.”

Jensen’s face clears. “Only you.”


	6. Chapter 6

“One more item before we start the checklist,” Jared announces. 

The single word in the centre of the agenda glows when Jensen looks down: ‘Collar’. “Yes,” he says. “As in I want one.” 

It’s getting easier to speak without boundaries, to lay himself open for Jared’s inspection and judgment. Committing to being entirely truthful with Jared removes significant stress. He no longer has to decide if something’s acceptable to say or reveal or ask for. At first it was scary, and he worried he was pushing Jared too far, but Jared seems constantly on the verge of jumping him, so he suspects it’s going okay in general. But this is a big one. 

Jared looks at him encouragingly, so he continues. He holds up his left arm, wrist ringed by the leather cuff. “I like wearing this. I like that I can see it. I was thinking of it as similar to an engagement ring.”

“Jensen,” Jared says. His voice throbs.

Did Jensen take it too seriously. “What?”

“You are the death of me. You know that? The death. Come here.”

Two seconds, and Jensen’s in his lap being smothered in kisses. 

“You surprise me—” Kiss. “—and delight me—” Kiss. “—and mesmerise me.” Deep demanding kiss on his mouth. “Fuck me, Jen, you can’t be real.”

Jared likes it. Likes him. “But I am,” Jensen says. “And I’m yours. Forever, if you want me.”

“Did you just propose to me?”

Did he? “Maybe.” Pulling away, he sits back on his heels so he can see Jared’s face. “Not necessarily for marriage, but our version. Whatever we want our commitment to be. Not immediately, but when it’s time.” He’d do it now, but he wants Jared to feel no hesitation about trusting him when the time comes. “Until then, I’ll wear this.” He indicates the cuff. “Unless you have another idea?”

Jared looks like the only idea in his head is getting inside of Jensen as soon as possible. “This is good,” he says faintly. “This is fine. Can we postpone the checklist to this evening? ‘Cause right now I wanna do things to you.”

Jensen’s fully up for that. He lets Jared toss him onto the bed and drag off his sweats before pulling him to the edge, where he shoves Jensen’s legs apart and swallows him down. He’s aggressive about it, doesn’t ease Jensen up the way he usually does, taunting and teasing like the waves breaking on a beach. Instead, he’s a torrential river hurtling Jensen downstream to a pounding waterfall, harder, deeper, faster, stronger, and Jensen stops trying to pace himself and lets Jared drive him over the edge.

Immeasurable time later, he floats to the surface to discover Jared nibbling on his chest. He’s pushed Jensen’s shirt up and is catching slivers of his skin between his teeth, biting down sharply. Jensen’s breath catches at a particularly piercing sting. 

“Welcome back.” Jared’s head lifts, his eyes blazing beneath the curls falling over them. He’s holding Jensen’s arms above his head, his fingers like pincers digging into muscle and flesh, pinning him down on the bed. He rolls his hips hard over Jensen’s post-orgasm-sensitive cock. “You’re gonna get hard for me again while I bite you, and come a second time for me. You will not move your arms. You will not try to get away. You will take what I give you and give me what I want. Understand?”

It feels like looking at thunder while being struck all over by lightning. “Ungh,” Jensen says. It’s a groan wrenched from the depths of his chest. “Yes!”

He abandons himself to the storm, fisting his hands into the covers to keep his hands in place as Jared attacks delicate skin on all sides, grinding his teeth into it. His hands grip Jensen’s knees, pushing them up and apart, giving him access to tender inner thighs and it should hurt, it does hurt, but the pain streaks straight through to his cock, which doesn’t take long to follow Jared’s command. 

“Yes, like that.” Jared surges up to claim Jensen’s mouth, then he’s heading down again. He drags his teeth over Jensen’s ribs, latches onto a mouthful of his belly with a violent shake of his head. 

Jensen screams.

But Jared’s already moved on, back to his thighs, between them, teeth closing around his balls, and Jensen shudders from pain. His cock only gets harder. 

“Where do you want me to bite you when you come?” Jared demands.

He knows what the answer is, the only part of his chest Jared’s teeth haven’t shredded. “My nipples,” he sobs.

Jared doesn’t give him any time. He clamps down immediately, teeth on one, fingers on the other, while his free hand finds Jensen’s cock and Jensen comes like Jared flipped a switch.

It’s harder to surface than before. He’s down deep, lost, the breath slammed out of him from the impact. 

Sensation returns first. Gentle fingers skimming over his inflamed skin, soothing and agitating simultaneously. Relentless. They’re overpowering.

Down his chest. Dancing lightly across his stomach. Playing in the remnants of his come. Sliding down to his exhausted cock. Jensen flinches away and sound returns, the sound of Jared laughing. 

“Oh no, you don’t. I’m not done with you yet.”

No. He can’t possibly mean to make Jensen come a third time. He can’t. He can’t even open his eyes or activate his voice. He has no idea if his arms are still where they were ordered to be.

Jared palms his cock before wrapping his fingers around it and tightening them sharply.

“No,” Jensen moans. Jared’s the one who likes his cock tormented, not him. 

“Yes,” Jared says. “Take it.”

He can’t. But he can’t find the energy to protest. He’s not allowed to squirm away or push Jared aside. Words won’t come. 

“You wanted this.” Letting go, Jared covers Jensen’s body with his like a blanket, his breath hot on Jensen’s cheek as he murmurs in his ear. “You said I could do what I liked with you. To you. And I want to make you come again.”

It isn’t possible. 

“Can’t.”

“Sure you can. Might take a bit of time, but I can get you there.”

Another climax is on the other side of jagged, volcanic mountains. They’ll rip him apart until there’s nothing left of him before he makes it across. “Too much.”

“You wanted this.”

Vaguely, Jensen knows what Jared’s doing. He’s punishing him for demanding so much, for terrifying him with all Jensen wants to give. He’s scared to trust himself with Jensen, and is trying to prove he can’t be trusted. He wants Jensen to take it back. The awareness is instinctive rather than conjectured, but Jensen knows there’s only one course of action.

“’kay,” he manages. “Do it.”

Jared stills. His breath ceases. 

Gathering himself, Jensen forces open his eyes. Jared’s on top of him, gazing down at him, thunderstruck. He was right. “Do what you want.” The words scrape out of him. “Get me there. Make me take it. For you.”

A rush of hot breath scalds him. “Can I fuck you?”

“Whatever you want.” The thought appeals. It’s been too long. His ass isn’t oversensitive like the rest of his body, his hole’s been entirely ignored, and with the right pressure his prostate could take him where Jared wants him. “Please.”

“I love you.” 

A searing kiss, then the weight of Jared vanishes and he’s flipped over onto his stomach. It’s a relief, everywhere he hurts is safe, shielded. And where he’s eager and ravenous is Jared’s target. He arches his back. “Please, Jay. Want you.”

Hot fingers part his cheeks. _Yes._ He’s so empty here. 

Jared licks across his centre. Licks again, a long line from Jensen’s balls all the way up to the base of his spine. “You like that?”

“More.”

“Don’t be greedy.” But the sharp pinch at the crown of his ass is instantly soothed by a gentle laving tongue. “Always taste so good, Jensen.”

Feels good. Especially when Jared goes back to his hole. Lapping at it. Flicking back and forth. And, after an eternity, pushing inside. 

“Want your cock,” Jensen gasps. A tongue isn’t close to enough. “Fill me up.”

Jared ignores him, continuing to probe with his tongue, licking inside the relaxing muscle, making a place for himself. It’s a place that’s all his, that’s dedicated to him. Jensen offers it up unreservedly. This is what he asked for, Jared pleasing himself with Jensen’s body. All Jensen has to do is let it happen.

Heat builds spasmodically. Starts low. Flares. Dies. Flares higher. The tongue becomes a finger. Sparks fly. 

So close. Then nowhere near.

It takes Jared’s cock entering him to finally harden him. That push, the pressure, the fullness. Stimulation right where he needs it. 

“Sorry,” Jared pants into his ear. “Not gonna last. You have to help.”

The jagged cliffs don’t rip him apart. He plummets over them as though shot from a cannon and smash lands just in time to hear Jared cry his name and come.

***

It’s 7 pm when Jared opens his eyes and twists to look at the clock. 7 pm. Why is he in bed at 7 pm? What day is it? Where is he meant to be?

Jensen’s spread out beside him. He has on a t-shirt that’s twisted up beneath his arms, and is bare from the waist down. Well-fucked. 

Oh yeah. 

Oh. Yeah. Fuck, what _was_ that? 

Did he really nearly devour Jensen alive?

Jensen stirs when Jared tries to turn him over to examine the damage. “Is it morning? Don’t wanna get up.”

“It’s evening, baby.” Jared presses a kiss against the back of his shoulder. “We’ve got the whole night still.”

Rolling over, Jensen groans. “What did you do to me?”

It’s bad. He was careful not to draw blood, but the teeth marks, Christ. Jensen’s puffy and red all over his chest and stomach, his inner thighs too. What was Jared thinking?

He wasn’t.

He was claiming.

“Does it hurt?”

Jensen looks down at himself, evaluating. “It throbs. Aches a bit. Not badly. Just continuously.”

“I’ll get you some Tylenol.” First, he confirms the skin isn’t broken anywhere. There’ll be bruising, but Jensen’s intact. “Have a shower and wash the—” Wounds? “—area. Just in case.”

Jensen has to work tomorrow. He can’t give his body rest to heal. He’s meant to get up early to run in the morning!

“Hey,” Jensen says. “It’s fine.”

Jared’s not sure it is. “I lost control.”

“You didn’t. You were careful. I’ll be fine. No damage,” Jensen emphasises. “Just a bit of pain and I’m good with that. It was worth it.”

“Was it?” 

“I’m the one who got three orgasms out of it. You did come, right? At the end?”

He did. It felt catastrophic. But his body’s calm now, peaceful. Satiated. He stretches out on the bed next to Jensen. No tension anywhere. “I did. So hard, fuck. Want to shower together?”

“Sure.”

He washes Jensen tenderly, reverently. Jensen insists on turning the water cold at the end. “It’s healthy and it’ll help the swelling. You should end every shower with cold water, Jared.”

No, thanks. Jared leaves him to it, waiting with a fluffy fresh towel to gently pat him dry afterwards. “Put on something soft. I’ll go order dinner.”

“Pizza.” 

It’s one of Jensen’s comfort foods, and if he’s asking for it, Jared won’t tell him no. “Sure. We have a stack of takeout menus in the kitchen. You want anything to drink?”

“Water. And one of the green apples we bought this morning.”

They lie on the bed, Jared on his back, Jensen sprawled over his chest, waiting for their pizza. Jensen has his apple and takes some Tylenol.

“We can leave the last item for another night,” Jared tells him, stroking his arm because he doesn’t want to aggravate his chest. “It’ll take a while and we want to do it justice.”

“No, let’s do it tonight. I want to.”

“Do you have enough energy?”

“If I don’t, that’s not on me.” But Jensen’s smiling, not complaining. “I can’t believe you made me come three times so close together. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“I love making you come.”

“But you’re okay with denying me too, right?”

Because Jensen loves being denied even more than Jared loves making him come. “Very okay with it. You should be grateful for what I gave you tonight. You have no clue when I’ll let you come again.”

“Right now that does not sound like a threat.”

He did that to Jensen. He pushed him so hard that Jensen actively doesn’t want to come again. He wielded that much power over him, and Jensen let him. Jared would have stopped at two if Jensen had insisted, he knew he was asking too much, but Jensen capitulated so gorgeously. 

“One more thing on rules,” Jensen says. His voice is sated, relaxed, bearing none of the nerves from his earlier requests regarding rules. 

“Yeah?”

“You remember that day when you were in total control? When you wouldn’t let me use my hands and tied me to the chair when your tutor students came?”

As if Jared could forget. “I do.”

“I want days like that. Regularly. Not just as a special one-off. Or evenings like that, since I don’t have many days off. Like, I get home at seven and we go straight into that until you let me sleep.” He laughs softly. “Of course, I fantasise about living like that constantly, but I know neither of us would like that. It would be too much pressure on you and I love just hanging with you after work, chatting about our day and being normal. But could we do that more often?”

It’s reassuring to hear how much Jensen enjoyed it. “Sure we can.” He tries to imagine how it might work in an evening. “Do you want to agree when we’ll do it ahead of time?”

“That makes sense, but either of us can request it without notice as well.” Jensen’s forehead wrinkles. “And either of us can say no if we don’t feel up to it or if we have work to do. That’s important, too.”

“Works for me.” His phone chimes. “That’ll be dinner. Hang on, I’ll get it.”

When he returns, he finds Jensen scouring the checklist. “There are things on here I’ve never heard of,” he says with disbelief. “And really way-out things.”

“It’s the most thorough one I could find.” Jared places the pizza on the desk. “I got one to share and individual salads.” He shouldn’t be embarrassed. “The healthy thing.” 

There’s no judgment from Jensen, just a beaming smile. “Thank you.”

“Right.” Replete as they are, Jared determines it’s safe enough for them to sit together on the bed for the checklist discussion, despite its provocative contents. He gets them set up, downs a slice of pizza, and pulls his laptop over. “Let’s do this.”

***

It’s fun. Jensen didn’t expect to laugh so much while filling out a list of detailed sexual turn-ons. If Jared hadn’t just fucked him out, he’d be fantasising about each item and it would quickly become overwhelming, but instead he’s sprawled comfortably on the bed, one leg hooked over Jared’s, eating pizza and salad and enjoying himself tremendously.

They start with sexual acts. Jared fills most of that section in quickly, since he knows Jensen’s preferences. Oral and anal definitely, both ways for Jensen, more limited bottoming for Jared. They’re both into rimming, fingering, kissing, licking. “All over, yes, please,” Jensen says. Same with teasing and massage. He has no experience with anal toys beyond butt plugs, which are a huge yes, but is eager to try. 

“Double penetration?” Jared asks. 

“Only _you_ fuck me.”

“With toys.”

Jensen can’t imagine it. “I’m not saying no. Put it as willing to try.”

The next item is “Bodily fluids”. “Does that mean you pissing on me?”

Jared laughs at the face he can’t help pulling. “I guess it can. You don’t want that?”

Not in the slightest. “Do you?”

“I’m not opposed to it.”

“If I said I wanted it, would you enjoy doing it?”

“Jensen, I’d enjoy doing anything you wanted that didn’t damage you. But, yeah, it’s something that turns me on of itself. I don’t need it, though, so if you say no—”

“I’m not saying no.”

“It’s fine if you do.”

He pictures himself on his knees, Jared looming over him, looking up at the cock he loves while it’s about to shower him with urine. He shudders. 

“Jensen—”

“Hang on.” It’s revolting, it makes his stomach clench like he might throw up, but it’s not dangerous. It wouldn’t hurt him. And if Jared’s into it, then maybe he could work his way to tolerating it. This shouldn’t solely be about what _he_ likes. “Could we have a separate column,” he asks, “for things I’m—things I don’t like but I’m willing to let you do anyway?”

It’s hard to look at Jared when he feels so embarrassed. He feels a little bit like a two, but it’s in the good way. He wants to serve Jared, and what more can he offer than being willing to do things he doesn’t like purely for Jared’s pleasure? 

Jared looks like he can’t decide what to say. He starts talking twice, only to stop before completing a word. “Okay,” he manages at last, the muscle in his jaw jumping the way it only does when he’s trying hard to control himself. “I’ll make a column for that now, but we’ll talk about it later.”

“That works,” Jensen says, mouth dry at what it means for his future, but the moment of crisis is over and they move on to— “Spitting? Seriously?”

“Some people like it.”

“Being spat on?” Jensen’s incredulous.

“And in. In their mouth,” Jared clarifies. 

“That’s disgusting.” And humiliating as fuck. “Put that in the same column.”

“You can say no.”

Jensen knows he can. He’s not sure why he isn’t. His skin feels wriggly, so he moves on. “We know I love you coming anywhere on me, plus in my mouth. No problem with that one.” So why does he have such a problem with other fluids from Jared’s body? “Hey, if shitting on me is on this list somewhere, that’s a hard limit.”

“Noted. It’s hard for me too.”

That’s good. He wouldn’t want to wonder if he should try and force himself to accept that one. After the section on sexual acts comes bondage. He had no idea there were such a variety of options and he says yes to every one.

Jared looks sceptical halfway through. “You don’t mind if lock you in a closet?”

Their closet’s pretty full, but they could easily deal with that for an evening of play. “Not every night, but sure.”

“You’re not claustrophobic?”

“Not particularly.” If he loves every possibility of being tied up or bound to something, why reject being confined inside something? “I want all of this in the eager-to-try column. What are stress positions?”

“Like I had you do in the club, bending backwards in a position that hurt more the longer you held it.”

“Definitely yes. And predicament positions?”

“Where you have two options that hurt and you can only relieve one at a time. Like having to balance on your toes or let a chain pull painfully at your nipples, maybe, or at your balls, or lower yourself onto an uncomfortably big dildo.”

“Yes, please.”

He wants blindfolds, every type of gag Jared can list, is willing to try a full-head hood, but vetoes corsets. “Unless you’re into them?”

“Nope.”

“Great.” He consults the list. “We haven’t tried genital bondage yet. I want to try. What are chastity devices?”

“One example is a cage for your cock.”

Jensen vaguely remembers reading something about those online. “What is that exactly?”

“A literal cage that I lock you into when you’re soft, which prevents you from getting hard.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Wait.” Jensen looks down at himself. He pulls out the waistband of the soft sweats he put on without underwear, contemplating his soft, vulnerable cock, and tries to picture it being locked up in a cage. It doesn’t feel good. “How long would I—how long do you wear it for?”

“As long as you want.”

“Like, hours? Days?”

“Or weeks, months.”

“So you can’t get hard for months? Is that even healthy?”

“There are things you can do to make sure it is, but yeah. It’s possible.”

Jensen can’t imagine never being allowed to get hard. “Why do people do that? What’s the point? If you can’t get turned on—”

“It doesn’t stop the way you feel. You’re turned on constantly. You just can’t do anything about it.”

Ah. That’s different. “Put that in that other column, the pissing one.” It requires further consideration if that’s the case.

Impact play is another category full of enthusiastic ticks under yes. So many exciting implements to try. He wants to experience everything at least once. “How else am I meant to know if I like it?” he points out reasonably. “I like you hitting me. I’ve liked everything you’ve hit me with so far. So why not try out the rest?”

He’s good with being hit anywhere on his body, although the prospect of a ruler to the hand conjures up pictures of Victorian schoolchildren. But he liked the ruler on his nipples, so why not on his palm? As for the soles of his feet, that’s not something he imagined as an option in the past, but it’s also worth a try. 

“I don’t know if I want to hit you in the face,” Jared says. 

“Not even a slap?”

“Do you want me to slap you across the face?”

Jensen isn’t sure. “Put it in the pissing column. We can consider it later. By the way, I had a thought. If we find an implement I don’t particularly like, then we could use it for punishment. And only use it in that context. Maybe more than one. I may not like having my palm smacked with a ruler as a turn-on, but it might work for punishment. What do you think?”

“I’ll make a note of that.” Jared’s notes are getting extensive. “Good idea.”

The section on other sensory and S&M play brings the first multiple rejections from both of them. Jensen’s relieved Jared doesn’t want to use knives on him or scar him or make him wear a catheter or use enemas for fun. He’s open to trying sounding, which Jared admits to zero experience with but a little interest, but says a stark, “Hard limit,” to tickling. They bounce through items quickly. Neither wants needles or electric play, but both ice and candle wax are yes. Jensen also says a quick yes to scratching, biting and pinching, although Jared looks rueful. 

“You’re not just saying that because I did all three of those to you earlier?”

“Did I look like I wasn’t enjoying them?”

“Just checking.” 

Jensen’s chest is still red and swollen. It will soothe him tomorrow when he has to return to the world of work away from Jared, feeling like Jared is constantly touching him. 

He says no to choking and breath play before waiting to hear Jared’s opinion, not even contemplating putting them in the piss column, the same with water torture. 

“What’s trampling?”

“Me standing on you, kind of abusing you with my feet.”

Hmm. “What kind of abuse?”

“Kicking you—not to injure, just to hurt—pressing them down on you, all over you, using them on your genitals, on your face.”

“Your feet on my face?”

“Some people like that. I think foot fetish is further down, but yeah, some people like worshiping feet, licking them, kissing them, having them rubbed all over their faces. And not just bare feet, but boots can be a big fetish too.”

Jensen’s not sure about that one. “How do you feel about it? From your side, I mean? Do you want to do any of that to me?”

Jared shrugs. “I can take it or leave it. Obviously if you had a massive fetish for it, I’d happily do it. If you don’t want to, I’m happy not to.”

He doesn’t have a feeling either way on it at the moment; it’s too bizarre. 

“Piss column?” Jared suggests.

Jensen wishes they had a better name for that column, because every time he hears the word it makes him picture it happening. “Yeah, for now. I need to think about it.”

The final big section is entitled “Power play”, and a quick skim tells Jensen it won’t take long. “Yes to all of these, as long as it’s only to you and for you and by you.”

Jared casts his eye down the list. “There are things here you don’t like.”

“But nothing I’m not willing to do when we play.”

“You want to keep a journal for me?”

“Not want to; willing to. Although you’re more the journal-keeping type.” He wouldn’t be surprised if Jared has been keeping notes all along about what they’ve done. 

“Food and weight control is on here.”

“We both made a commitment to be healthy, so I know you won’t violate that. Anything else, I’m fine with. As play,” he clarifies, in case Jared didn’t get it. “Not 24/7, obviously.” Although, within limits, he’d go along with that too if Jared asked. 

Jared scrutinises the list, brow furrowed, alighting on potentially problematic items, then seemingly accepting that Jensen has okayed them for play. Right at the end, he pauses. “You’re willing to serve as an ashtray?”

“You don’t smoke.” Not even stress cigarettes, now he has Jensen to play with and has committed to optimising his health. 

“As a toilet?”

Jensen ignores the squirm in his belly. “I figure that will be a part of our discussion later.” 

“So you’re really happy for me to implement any one of these items when we play?”

He gives them a final inspection. “I hope you will.”

“Right.” That dazed look from early this afternoon has returned to Jared’s eyes. Jensen’s overwhelming him again. 

Should Jensen hold back? No, not if he’s being honest. “Just remember, you don’t have to do any of these if you don’t want to. Me saying yes to something isn’t a demand that you do it.”

“I know.” It doesn’t sound like he does. 

“We’ve actually done most of these before, to some extent or other.”

Jared chose his apparel that day of full control at school and he dictated when Jensen used the bathroom. He’s forced orgasms on Jensen, he’s refused them, he’s restricted Jensen’s speech and eye movements, given him orders and made him beg and crawl. Why does he look so bowled over?

“I want these.” Is Jared’s voice trembling? “You’ve no idea how much I do. You’ve no idea....” He falters to a halt, shaking his head. “Yes, okay? I’m yes to all of them, like you.” 

There’s not much to come after that, just a few stray concepts that defied categorisation. Jensen doesn’t want to engage in pet play of any kind, thank you, exhibitionism and all its complications is already tabled for later, and he’s not keen on roleplay. 

“Maybe. I’d feel kinda stupid. Can we put it on the piss list to figure out later?”

“Sure.”

“I just want to be yours as you and me. I don’t know, maybe pretending you’re a headmaster and I’m a naughty pupil will do it for me?” He doubts it, and from Jared’s expression, he feels the same. “Is that it then?”

“Pretty much.”

Jensen waits for Jared to save the checklist document with their responses, then takes the laptop from him and pushes it aside. “Can you cuddle me now?”

It feels strange not to want sex when they’ve just spent an hour and a half discussing sexual turn-ons. His mind reels with concepts and options. He has terminology now, and a structure. Before, this world was nothing but a whirl of sensations and dizzying emotion. Now he knows how to think about it, how to analyse his responses, and how to articulate them to Jared. 

“We should’ve done that months ago,” Jared says into his hair. “Most people start with it.”

“I’m glad we didn’t. If you’d given me a list like that the night we first slept together, I’d have requested another roommate.”

“Too much?”

“I nearly lost my mind at rimming.” It’s strange to think back to how scared he was that night. “No, I’m glad it happened like it did. You got beneath my defences. I wouldn’t have let myself like any of it if I’d known too much in advance. I wouldn’t have imagined I _could_ like it.”

“So you’re not mad I didn’t do this properly?”

Jensen stretches out, pulling Jared’s hand down to rest on his sore chest. “Who decides what’s proper? You took care of me, kept me safe, and I’m the one who ran with the kinky stuff. I kept pushing you for more, more, more. I still am.”

Carefully, Jared thumbs one of the deeper abrasions. It throbs satisfyingly. “I wish I could have you to myself for weeks. I want to do so many things to you it’s hard to pick where to start.”

“That’s why I wanted the rules,” Jensen admits. “So it’s ongoing, not just when we can find the time to play. I’m yours constantly, every moment, and I want to feel it. The rules, for me, are like—sort of like a form of bondage. That item on the list, verbal bondage.” Like at the Blackbird that night watching Steve’s band, Jared had explained, when he ordered Jensen to keep his hands on the table and behind the chair. “The rules are like that for me when I can’t be with you personally.”

“That actually makes sense.” Jared slides his hand down to possessively cup it over Jensen’s exhausted cock. The heat of it burns through Jensen’s thin pants. “I like knowing you feel like that. And it’ll help, knowing you’re constantly aware of being mine like that, when we’re apart. I understand now.”

Good. Jensen didn’t think he’d managed to explain his desire for rules sufficiently, but this is it in a nutshell. It’s not because he needs Jared to run his life, he’s not incapable or helpless. He just wants to feel Jared securely around him at all times.

“Tomorrow night I’ll write that list,” he says. “And then you can spank me as a reward for being good.”

“Just wait until I track down all those implements you want to try.”


	7. Chapter 7

Despite what Jared did to him, Jensen wakes up in the morning when Jared does so he can fit in a run before heading to the rehearsal studio. He departs cheerfully with a kiss, and Jared wants to chase after him. He hasn’t had time yet to show him the best places to run, places Jared scouted out despite believing Jensen would never share New York with him. Damn this six-days-a-week schedule theatre has. 

If Jared ran too, he could show Jensen all over New York. It could be extra time to share together. 

He can’t now, not while he has an hour-long commute every morning and early classes to teach, but from September he can. 

Now that they’ve made such a serious commitment to each other, he wants even more of Jensen. He resents leaving for school in the morning, resents that Jensen’s at rehearsal when he gets home. He has another month teaching and Jensen’s show starts previews the week after that, so he tells himself to be patient, they’ll have more time in the future. But he wants it now.

He wants so much now.

All those incredible offers Jensen made. He’s still in shock. He rides the subway going through them in his mind, picturing how they can play out scenarios at home with the restrictions of living with other people, and wonders if it’s worth attempting to win some more money to pay for a regular private room at the club. Would Jensen approve of him gambling to finance it? Would that violate Being Better? 

True to his word, Jensen curls up on the bed beside Jared on Monday night, opens his laptop and types up the list of rules he wants. He decides he wanted the rules regarding health to be his side of “My side and your side” and sketches out rough exercise and diet plans he wants to follow. Thoughtfully, he adds what he thinks might work for Jared. In addition for himself, he wants rules about being late, behaving rudely or impatiently, and not getting enough sleep, suggesting punishments such as standing in the corner, having his mouth washed out with soap, or going to bed early alone. 

Jared doesn’t know how to feel about the fact he wants to do things like that to Jensen. What does it say about him? 

He still can’t believe Jensen _wants_ those things. Is willing to let Jared inflict them on him. Does the power rush work the same for him, Jared wonders, in the reverse? Does he thrill to the idea of allowing Jared to treat him like that the same way Jared does at the thought of Jensen giving him such power over him? 

It’s heady. 

It’s awe-inspiring.

It’s terrifying.

He prints out the list of over-arching rules Jensen wants to apply at all times and keeps it in his pocket with his wallet so he can consult it throughout the day, reminding himself what orders Jensen is living by:

“1. My body belongs to Jared to use whenever he wants, for whatever purpose he desires (safewords apply).

“2. Jared is in charge of my orgasms and I will not touch myself without permission. If I want to come, I will ask and abide by Jared’s decision.

“3. I will always let Jared know where I am and check with him first before accepting any invitation or request. 

“4. When we play, Jared makes all the rules and I will obey them without complaint. 

“5. I will accept all punishments without objection, and agree that if I try to argue then that will add to the punishment.

“6. I will raise any issues with Jared immediately and not leave them to fester.

“7. I will be honest with Jared at all times and articulate how I feel without trying to hide it. I will be completely open with him.”

They’re nothing but words, simple words, but he burns every time he reads them. This is what Jensen has given him. What Jensen _is_ giving him, every day. 

The responsibility is staggering. 

***

“I was late.”

Jensen’s been quiet all evening. They ate with Jeff, as has become custom, and Jared figured Jensen was tired and kept a light-hearted conversation going to cover for him so he could relax. They’ve just come to their room after cleaning up and Jared was planning to cuddle Jensen on the bed for a while, maybe offer him a massage, but Jensen’s words the moment he closes the door put an end to that.

He turns around, careful to keep his expression neutral. “What do you mean? Late for what?”

“Work.” Jensen’s leaning against the bed, eyes focused somewhere in the vicinity of Jared’s chest. “After lunch.”

This is it, Jared realises. The moment that decides how they go from here. He wants to double check with Jensen, make sure one final time that he still wants to press on with this idea of punishment for real things, but if Jensen is behaving like this and confessing, he’s instigating it. This is his version of asking for it. “How late?” he asks.

“Six and a half minutes.”

He wants to ask why, but Jensen stressed that excuses don’t matter. He hadn’t expected this so soon, only two days after Jensen presented him with the list, but it makes sense that he’d want to test Jared’s commitment. Fortunately Jared spent his commute home this afternoon mentally preparing for exactly this moment. “Strip,” he orders, making his voice inflexible.

Meekly, Jensen does. He makes no production of it, slipping efficiently out of his clothes and folding them neatly on the bed. 

Jared keeps his eyes hard, showing no appreciation for Jensen’s bared body. “You’ll stand in that corner,” he gestures, “nose pressed against the wall, arms behind your back, for the next thirty minutes.”

As expected, that jerks Jensen out of his penitent attitude. “Thirty? I was only six minutes late!”

“It’s now forty.”

Jensen’s mouth drops open. “But—”

“Do you want fifty?”

Reluctantly moving towards the corner, Jensen glances back over his shoulder, his eyes turbulent with shock and disbelief. 

“Forty-five,” Jared says, when he delays assuming the directed position, “or you safeword.”

Jensen meets his eyes for a long charged moment, before turning to face the wall. He grips his non-cuffed wrist with the fingers of his other hand and leans forward to press his nose into the corner. It’s not a comfortable position to hold for five minutes—Jared tried it—let alone forty-five, and he half expects Jensen to safeword immediately, but instead Jensen settles into place, saying nothing.

“I’ll be in the living room watching television with Jeff.” 

Jensen’s chest jerks as though he’s about to turn around, but then he settles again.

“I want you to spend this time thinking about the carelessness of being late and wasting other people’s time, like you’re wasting my time right now. I had plans for this evening, plans for a special time for us to share together, and now your behaviour has deprived us of that.” He opens the bedroom door. “If you need to safeword for any reason, just put on your clothes and come and join us. Otherwise I’ll be back in forty-four minutes and I expect to find you exactly as I’m leaving you.”

The fingers of Jensen’s free hand clench. Jared will definitely be hearing about this later. 

***

He asked for this, Jensen reminds himself for the hundredth time. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and tries to ignore his throbbing muscles. Admittedly he didn’t ask for exactly this, but he gets what Jared is doing. 

He’s making it real. 

He’s making certain Jensen does want this.

And Jensen is....honestly not certain. What is this accomplishing? Is there a point to it? It’s not like he has a problem with disrespecting other people’s time, and today’s incident wasn’t under his control. He thought it might be sexy, but Jared has ensured it isn’t.

Clever boy. Against his will, Jensen’s impressed. Given Jared’s reluctance to implement real punishment, he’s certainly made the most of it.

And he was ready. He didn’t hesitate. He’d obviously planned for this in advance.

Jensen isn’t going to safeword out of it. He asked for it, and he’s not going to complain about getting it. He’ll stick out however much longer he has left in this corner and then afterwards he’ll be honest in their debriefing.

He hears Jared before the door opens, calling a cheerful goodnight to Jeff and a hello and goodnight to Luke, who must have just gotten home from the gym. Warmth soothes his tense muscles at the knowledge that he doesn’t need to worry about Jared opening the door prematurely and exposing him. He knows Jared will protect him. 

Jared’s love for him is pretty awe-inspiring.

“Hey.” 

Jensen doesn’t turn when he hears the door open and close.

“Time’s up, baby. You’ve done well.”

It should feel like Jared’s being condescending, but it doesn’t. Instead the feeling of warmth intensifies as he eases his hands apart and turns around. 

Jared’s right there, pulling him into his arms. “You feelin’ okay?”

His mouth’s too dry to speak, but he nods hard enough for Jared to feel. 

“I have some water for you. Do you want to put some clothes on?”

It’s a sincere question and Jensen evaluates. “Yeah.”

Sitting him down on the bed, Jared moves to the dresser to pull out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. While the sweats are Jensen’s, the t-shirt is Jared’s, and Jensen fights a smile as he pulls it on. 

Jared’s answering smile is hesitant. The strict enforcer is gone; now he’s Jensen’s boyfriend again, wondering if he went too far in his attempt to comply with Jensen’s wishes. 

“You okay?” Jensen asks.

“Sure.” The hesitation disappears. “We were watching a cooking show and I found something I want to make for you. Here.” Jared reaches for the bottle of water on the desk. “Do you want anything else? I can get you an apple. Or—I don’t know. Anything.”

“I’m good.” It’s not like he’s been through something particularly arduous. True, it wasn’t fun or comfortable, but he’s fine. He takes the water and uncaps it. “Can we talk about what happened?”

“Of course.” Jared climbs onto the bed. “Join me?”

It’s impossible to resist the temptation of that body. Maybe they should be more formal about this, but Jensen doesn’t care. He tucks himself against Jared’s warmth, taking a sip of water before resting his head on Jared’s shoulder. Sucking in a breath, he mentally sorts through what he wants to say. “Thank you,” he starts.

A surprised huff escapes Jared. “That is not how I expected you to begin.”

“You thought I’d be mad?”

“You were mad.”

“I was taken aback,” Jensen corrects. “I hadn’t expected—what you did.”

“Yeah, I figured. So? How was it? You said you wanted real punishment.”

Jensen doesn’t like Jared sounding defensive. “I did, and you were right. You did the right thing.”

“But?”

“But I didn’t like it.”

Jared laughs, more a rumble in his chest beneath Jensen’s hand than a sound. “That was kinda the point, Jen. Otherwise it isn’t punishment.”

“I know.”

“If you ask for real punishment, that’s what I’m going to give you. It won’t be nice. It won’t be fun. You most definitely will not like it.”

The steel in his voice elicits an inappropriate thrill tingling down Jensen’s spine. It’s important Jensen gets his words right here. “I don’t know if I want that. At least, not for something like this.” Is it his imagination or does Jared relax a little against him? He keeps going, trying to figure out what he thinks as he speaks. “I thought it might be different, but you’re right. If I want real punishment for real transgressions, then it has to be real, it has to be something I hate. And maybe if I, you know, had a chronic problem with being late, then it might be worth it.”

“That’s what confused me,” Jared admits. “You don’t have a problem with any of those things you put on the list. You’re abnormally conscientious, you’re more likely to be early than late, you’re polite, and you’re fanatical about your health.”

Jensen thinks about it, and Jared’s right. So what made him pick those points as transgressions to be punished for? He tries to put himself into the headspace of what he was thinking. When was he late for things? Or rude to people? 

The realisation rockets through him. “You didn’t know me in Dallas,” he says. He fiddles with Jared’s hand as he talks, needing something to hold on to because this kind of insight is unsettling. “This summer I wasn’t any of those things. I was frequently late at work because I loathed being there so much. I didn’t talk to anyone there—I wasn’t very polite about it either. I certainly wasn’t conscientious with the work I did. And I channelled everything I was feeling into way too much exercise without—I didn’t—I barely ate. I barely slept. It was—you wouldn’t have recognised me. Other than,” he adds, remembering, “how rude I was to you when you came to visit.” He still cringes at the memory, and he’s not sure he could’ve been as forgiving as Jared was.

“There were extenuating circumstances for all of that, though. You were having a crisis.”

“I felt out of control.” Jensen doesn’t like thinking about those dark weeks. It’s important, though, so he lets some of his mindset from Dallas filter back. “I hated being like that, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t control any of it.” And control, for him, is essential. 

“So you think that’s why you asked me to take control of it for you now?” Jared asks. 

It hadn’t felt like it at the time, but Jensen can’t disagree. “I don’t want to be that person.” His voice sounds small, unconvinced. “I’m not that person,” he says more strongly. “I’m not that person and I don’t want to be that person, and I’m—” _Scared of becoming that person again without being able to stop it from happening._

Somehow, Jared understands what he’s too ashamed to say. “How about we add that to our ‘My side and your side’?” he says gently. “You commit to not being that person and I commit to calling you out on it if I see any of those behaviours becoming a problem for you again.”

It’s hard not to feel pathetic. How can he have this little control over himself that he needs someone else to watch over him? It was easier to dress them up as arbitrary rules so he didn’t have to think about the fear that lies behind them. “Yes, please,” he makes himself say. 

“See?” Jared presses a kiss against his temple. “Such a polite boy.”

Jensen wriggles up so he can kiss Jared back. It’s gentle, not going anywhere, more about intimacy than sex. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” he asks when they separate again. “With committing to watching out for me like that?”

Jared shrugs. “It’s not that different to you watching out for me with my health, helping me make better eating choices and working out exercise programs specifically tailored for me. Are you okay with doing that?”

“Of course.” Jensen is thrilled that Jared’s open to letting him take care of him like that. “Oh, I see.” It’s the same the other way around. He contemplates their joint commitments. On one hand, it’s scary, trusting someone else with responsibility for him like this, but on the other he feels awed that that someone else is willing, in fact eager, to assume that responsibility. He’s glad it goes both ways, that he’s contributing just as much and taking care of Jared in return. “I didn’t know life could be like this,” he muses. “I didn’t know a relationship could be like this.”

“Our relationship is whatever we decide to make it, Jen.”

Yeah. It may have begun shrouded in confusion and deception and far too many lies—to each other, to others, and to themselves—but almost losing it entirely has taught them both how precious what they can have is, and Jensen’s determined not to risk it again. 

***

Jared’s not sure how that went. Was it a successful experiment? It ended with Jensen gaining insight into himself, so....probably? 

What’s more discomforting is his own reaction. When he opened the bedroom door to find Jensen still obediently planted in the corner, his position perfect, he felt a rush of intense satisfaction. Jensen was there, doing this absurd thing, purely because Jared told him to. It’s a crazy, wild high, and Jared’s addicted to it. He’s hardly had any and all he can think about is having more. 

Back at school, he was too concerned about trying to hide the way he was falling in love with Jensen to realise just how much the things they were doing were affecting him, but their new commitment to honesty means honesty with himself as well and he can no longer hide from himself how into this he is. 

But not as real punishment. He doesn’t feel qualified to mete that out to Jensen. As a game, though, yes, a hundred percent yes. His mind buzzes with so many ideas he hasn’t a clue where to begin. How does he decide what to try first? 

He still hasn’t decided when Friday night arrives. Last Friday he went to meet Jensen after work; should he go again? Why not? The heat isn’t too bad, it broke in a crashing storm overnight, so he goes home to change out of his teaching clothes then wanders up through the bustling Friday evening streets to the noisy chaos of Times Square. He rarely came here before Jensen, but he finds a spot to perch and lets the rush of excited energy swirl around him. He’s never made much of New York before. It was the place he ran to, the place that terrified the daylights out of him before he lucked into meeting Jeff, and he’s never felt like he fits in here. But it’s home now. Come September he’ll start at NYU and Jensen will be working on the musical and they will both be New Yorkers.

Texas is over. At least for now. 

Jensen emerges from the rehearsal studios in a crowd. Standing back, Jared watches him. He’s laughing, looking vibrant and gorgeous in a deep maroon shirt that’s open at the neck , right where Jared wants to kiss him. He says something to the red-haired woman next to him and everyone convulses with laughter. The redhead slings an arm around his shoulders and he lets her pull him close.

He’s comfortable in this world, Jared realises. These theatre people suit him. He feels at home with them in a way Jared’s never seen anywhere else. He has to make sure Jensen can keep this. Working in theatre isn’t easy, especially since Jensen has no formal training yet, but he belongs in this affectionate, creative world. There’s nothing Jared won’t do to make sure he can stay in it.

“Jared!” Jensen spots him through the shifting crowds and pulls away from the redhead, waving his hand over his head. “Hey, Jay, come over here.”

The group with Jensen stops, sizing him up as he crosses the sidewalk and approaches them. Jensen beams at him. 

“I hoped you’d come tonight. I meant to text you to ask if you would.” Unbothered by his colleagues’ avid stares, he slides a hand around Jared’s neck and pulls him down for a quick kiss hello.

Jensen meant it when he told everyone at work about being gay and having a boyfriend. 

He meant it that he’s out to everyone, everyone including the entirety of Times Square. 

Jensen really is out.

“Hi.” Relieved his voice doesn’t sound as overwhelmed as he feels inside, Jared smiles down at him. “I didn’t wanna wait till you got home to see you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Jensen kisses him again, nothing showy, just a quick press of lips against lips, then turns around. “This is Jared, everyone. My boyfriend.”

There are at least two other gay guys in the group, Jared gathers, judging by the way they check him out. The taller one raises an impressed eyebrow. 

“I can see why you moved to New York for him, babe,” he says—and is that Texas in his voice? “Hi.” He steps forward to shake Jared’s hand. “I’m Oliver, from Houston. You’re San Antonio, right?”

So Jensen’s told them more than just of Jared’s existence. “Until I was sixteen.”

“Good to meet you.”

“Daniel.” The other gay guy pushes forward to grab Jared’s hand. “Jensen did not do you justice.”

Daniel’s the kind Jared would have gone for in the old days, the pre-Jensen days. There’s nothing shy about him as he lets Jared see just how attractive he finds him. Jared shakes his hand, relieved that kind of dance is in the past now. “Hi.”

The others turn out to be Evan, Lucia, Naomi, and Ivy. Ivy’s the redhead who hugged Jensen, and she goes in for a hug with Jared as well. Startled, he reciprocates. Jensen catches his eye over her bright head and winks. This must be what she’s always like. 

“It’s so great to meet you,” Naomi says when Ivy steps back. “I keep telling Jensen to invite you to rehearsal.”

People can go to rehearsals? 

“But this is perfect, because we were just trying to persuade Jensen to come for a drink with us tonight. He wanted to check with you first and now here you are.”

He wanted to check with Jared first. It’s one of his rules, and Jensen flushes when Jared looks across at him. “I know it’s the end of your week and you’re probably exhausted,” he says, “but we don’t have to stay for long.”

Jensen’s the one who’s usually exhausted at the end of the week, not Jared. Jared loves going out to throw off the grind of the week and relax. “Sure, I’d love to. Where are we headed?”

Daniel knows a bar he wants to try two blocks over, so they fight their way through the pre-theatre crowds, trying to keep their group together. Jensen tucks his fingers through Jared’s belt. “Don’t want to lose you,” he says. “Are you sure it’s okay for us to go out with them?”

“I’m real happy to meet them,” Jared says honestly. “Oliver’s Bottom, right? And Daniel’s the gymnast you told me about who’s playing Puck?”

“Yeah. Evan’s Snug, one of the players, and the others are all fairies.” 

It’ll be an arresting visual on stage, Jared thinks, looking at the three women, with fiery Ivy, the white blonde curls of Lucia, and Naomi’s shock of black braids. They’re all tiny and gorgeous. Dancers, Jensen said the fairies were, and Jared can see that. 

The group is casual and relaxed. Daniel’s bar is busy, but not unpleasantly crowded, and Jared leans back and lets himself enjoy this unexpected social encounter. Jensen’s colleagues are fun, a little bitchy at times but mostly accompanied by humour, not meanness. Jensen chimes in more frequently than Jared would’ve expected. He speaks this language, a language Jared doesn’t. 

The only other times he’s been out in a social situation with Jensen was with Steve and his band. There, Jensen mostly sat silently, contributing rarely. Now he jokes with Naomi about a prop that broke during rehearsal, he teases Oliver about the donkey head he had to try on this morning, reassures Lucia about a line she can never say right, and debates the director’s interpretation of a particular speech of Puck’s with Daniel. 

As he talks, Jensen keeps some part of his body touching Jared’s at all times. His knee presses into Jared’s, his elbow knocks against Jared’s arm and stays there, a couple of times he drops his hand beneath the table for a quick squeeze of Jared’s thigh, and then he drapes his left hand over Jared’s blatantly on the table for all to see. 

The hand with Jared’s cuff wrapped around his wrist. 

Jared wonders if it’s possible to combust from pride. 

“You’re sweet.” It’s Ivy, on his other side. Her eyes flick down to their joined hands and she gives him a charming smile. “Adorable together, really.”

Jared thinks so. “It’s all Jensen. He’s the adorable one.”

“Oh, for sure,” she agrees. “Although he puts his foot down when he needs to in rehearsal.”

“He does, does he?”

“He can be quite strict.”

“You only say that because you prefer to gossip than rehearse,” Jensen says across Jared. She’s right, he sounds surprisingly severe. Jared’s impressed.

“You need to come and watch one day,” Ivy tells Jared. “See your boy in action.”

“Oh, I bet he sees him in action plenty,” Naomi says from across the table. “Just look at them.”

To Jared’s delight, Jensen blushes. Not much, maybe not even enough for the girls to pick up in the dull lighting, but Jared can see the flush spreading down his neck, something he usually sees only when he has Jensen alone and naked. 

“So how did you guys get together?” Daniel asks. “Jensen hasn’t said.”

Jensen’s blush deepens. Fuck yeah, Jared’s sure he hasn’t said. “We were roommates in college.”

“And they just happened to put two gay guys together?”

“I—kind of—wasn’t gay.”

That gets Jensen sharp looks from most of the table. Naomi’s the one who speaks. “You weren’t?”

This is Jensen’s story, and Jared can’t help him. He turns his hand over beneath Jensen’s, though, and winds their fingers together. 

Jensen gives him a grateful glance. “I was in the closet,” he says, his words coming evenly but Jared can feel his tension everywhere Jensen’s touching him. “Even to myself. I had a girlfriend back home and I planned to marry her.”

Ivy winces. “But then you met Jared?”

“Then I met Jared. And...” Jensen turns to him, gestures with his free hand. “How was I meant to resist?”

It’s Jared’s turn to feel his cheeks heat. “To be fair, I was the one who couldn’t resist.”

The others turn to him with interest. “Yeah?” Daniel says. “What happened?”

“I took one look at him before I even knew he was my roommate and that was it for me.” 

“So you wore him down?”

“No,” Jensen says. “He slept with half the town to make sure I wouldn’t find out.”

“I was trying to protect you!”

“And it would’ve worked if I’d been straight.”

Oliver leans forward. “But you weren’t.”

“No,” Jensen acknowledges. “And after a few months of living together, I couldn’t deny it any longer. We—it wasn’t meant to be serious, at least not for me. I thought I could just, maybe, you know, get it out of my system. Before—” He stops, and Jared tightens his fingers, knowing what Jensen’s thinking about. “Yeah, well.” Clearing his throat, he turns to Jared with a luminous smile. “You can all see how that turned out.”

Jared still can’t believe it. How long will it take before he gets used to the fact that Jensen is his, that Jensen fell in love with him and chose him and left behind his entire world for him? 

“So how long have you been together?” Ivy asks. 

“For—” Jensen frowns. “Jay?” His eyes look particularly green as he turns them towards Jared. “How long have we been together?”

Why’s he asking Jared? “Since—oh.” Jared has no idea. Does he say two weeks, since that’s when Jensen came to him and they became official? But then they decided to be together back in Jensen’s bedroom in Dallas a month ago. Although if you go from when they started sleeping together, that’s back in March. 

“How do you not know?” Naomi demands.

“There are various options,” Jared says. “We haven’t actually discussed it.”

Jensen’s face shows that he’s going through the same thought process. “Let’s go with July 4th,” he says eventually. 

The night of the fireworks when Dianne found out and made Jensen a free man?

“That’s the first time we said I love you properly.”

That night just before Dianne found them, before the fireworks, when Jensen fell apart in Jared’s arms because he finally believed Jared’s declaration of love. When they acknowledged breaking each other’s hearts and Jensen fiercely insisted that Jared was _everything_ for him. “Yes.” His voice cracks on the word and he has to clear his throat. “Yes,” he tries again. “Yes, the 4th.” _When you believed me and you said the words out loud for the first time._

“You’re it for me,” Jensen said later that night. And, “I want us.” And, “I want to be yours.”

Jensen’s right. That’s their anniversary. 

“That’s perfect.”

Jensen beams at him, eyes bright and green and filled with the love Jared is coming to depend on. “I thought so.”

“You are just too cute,” Ivy declares. “God, we may as well not even be here.”

Jared’s glad they are, because they brought about this moment. “I might need to take Jensen home now,” he says, not looking away from Jensen’s vibrant face. 

“I think you’d better,” Oliver says. Or maybe it’s Daniel. No, there was Texas there somewhere. “Jensen, if you can’t walk tomorrow, it’s okay, we’ll know why.”

Jensen blushes scarlet, vividly noticeable to everyone this time, and Jared laughs. “C’mon, babe. Now I have something to live up to.”


	8. Chapter 8

He’s never been teased about gay sex before. Jensen glares at Oliver before following Jared, but Oliver grins unrepentantly and waggles his fingers in a wave goodbye. The girls laugh and wave as well, and it’s a relief to turn his back on them and run after Jared. 

Jared who loves him. 

Jared who’s given him all of this. 

“I love you,” he says when he catches up to him on the sidewalk. “I really love you.”

Jared turns around and pulls Jensen roughly against his body. “I love you too,” he mutters thickly into Jensen’s ear. “So fuckin’ much, you have no idea.”

He’s shaking, Jensen realises. Oh God, Jared’s actually crying? “Jay?”

“I’m fine.” Jared grips him tighter. “I am. I’m just—remembering. And being grateful.”

Jensen clings back. “Does that gratitude extend to giving me trouble walking tomorrow?”

That elicits a tremulous laugh from Jared. “There are a couple ways I could go about ensuring that, you know.”

“However you want.” It’s Friday night. Everyone at home should be out. “Please, Jay.”

They take the subway, neither wanting to wait as long as walking would take. It’s crowded, and Jensen presses backwards against Jared’s front, shifting his hips as subtly as he can manage. 

“Babe,” Jared murmurs into his ear, “you’re really asking for it.”

Jensen laughs, unable to contain his happiness. “I sure am.” He waits until the train slows to make sure Jared can hear him. “You gonna give it to me?”

In reply, Jared thrusts hard against him, and Jensen laughs again.

It’s fun, is the thing. Jensen’s not used to fun. For many years he thought as long as he ruthlessly controlled every aspect of his life, then he’d be okay, then his life would work. Now he shudders at the possibility of having been trapped in that mindset forever, but back then he could never have imagined something like this, having a boyfriend for all the world to see and getting naked for him and opening himself up beneath burning hazel eyes. It didn’t occur to him that sex could be enjoyable, that delight could roll through him as he turned himself on, that he’d thrill to the heady power of turning someone else on with his body, with his actions. 

He also didn’t have a clue what it felt like to spread his legs wide for penetration, to turn himself over to someone else, to surrender completely to whatever they wanted to do with him. 

“Trouble walking,” Jared murmurs, bottoming out as far inside Jensen as he can get. “Right? That’s the plan?”

He had no idea sex could be so rough, yet so exhilarating at the same time. He loves that Jared is stronger than him, that he can slam himself back against Jared without holding back, that he can let go of every vestige of control he ever clung to and set his body free to hurl itself into the maelstrom. 

It’s impossible to tell where he stops and Jared begins. Jared is all around him, surrounding him, inside him, his cock, his tongue, taking everything, giving everything, and Jensen laughs into his mouth, gasps, sobs, and—eventually—screams.

***

Everything hurts in the morning, but in the best way. He whimpers when Jared’s hand slides down between his cheeks. 

“How’re you feelin’ here?”

He could go again, Jensen decides, regardless of facts, if Jared wanted to. “I’m okay.”

Jared laughs, low and husky. “Liar.”

He could, though. If Jared wanted it. One day he wants Jared to take him like this, when Jensen’s too sore for it and wrung out, just because Jared wants to fuck again and Jensen’s purpose is to provide something for Jared to fuck. It’ll take some persuading to get Jared to do it—but that’s the very reason he can. 

“I’ll suck you,” he says instead, because he knows Jared won’t go for it today. “I’ve got time.”

“I have nothing left, babe.” Jared came in him three times during the night, twice early on and then again around 3am when they woke up to the sound of doors banging and Jensen drifted through it largely in a dream. “Wish I could, but you emptied me out.”

That’s good. That’s....satisfying. That’s the way it should be.

Jared didn’t let Jensen come last night, not even when he begged, but this is far more satisfying than the most explosive orgasm would have been. 

“In that case,” he says, swivelling around to drop a kiss on the turned-up tip of Jared’s nose, “I’m gonna walk to work, so I’ll go get ready.”

Jared grins. “No run this morning, Jensen?”

His hole is so tender even walking will hurt, and he feels like stretched apart, like Jared’s still buried inside him. It’s hard to bring his legs together when he stands up. “You go for a run,” he says. “You’re behind on your cardio for the week.”

“Oh, I got plenty of cardio last night, thanks.” Sliding his arms behind his head, Jared leans back on the pillows. “Think I’m going back to sleep.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning Jensen can stay in Jared’s arms and they can cuddle and make out and he can’t wait. But for today, duty calls. 

Duty, yes, but also pleasure. Working on a play is hard as hell but he’s loving every moment. Every day provides new learning experiences, with Mark expecting more from him each time he delivers. Jensen didn’t know he was capable of this, that he could take charge of a room full of talented, experienced actors and help them create magic. It’s terrifying. It’s addictive. He never wants to do anything else. 

Today he’s working mostly with the fairies, while Mark focuses on Oberon, Titania and Puck. Ivy winks at him when he winces the first time he sits down, but otherwise they’re professional and respond well to his staging suggestions and he even wins an argument with Kris, the movement director, about the choreography for a particular moment. It’s a good day to end the week on. They’re midway through the rehearsal period now, only two weeks to go before tech week, which everyone is dreading and Jensen hasn’t yet figured out why. There’s still so much to learn and his head is whirring with it all when he catches up on his email on the subway home.

There’s a forwarded article about bear safety from his mother; she’s remembered that Jared mentioned being scared of bears and he’s not sure how to react to her casually sending him articles to share with his boyfriend.

It’s easier to deal with the schedule for next week’s rehearsals from Caroline, the stage manager, and today’s rehearsal report from Maya, her assistant. He scans through the report just in case there was anything he didn’t know about that he should know about before Monday morning’s meeting with Mark and the other heads of departments to plan the week, but nothing jumps out at him. He’ll reread it on Sunday just in case. 

There’s the inevitable fake PayPal spam, which can be deleted immediately, then more from Caroline, this time the costume plot for him to double check before it goes to Mark on Monday—

Oh. 

Something from Joshua Ackles.

Josh. 

He doesn’t open it. It’s his first communication from his brother in four years; it deserves more than a hurried skim in a crowded subway car. Instead, he slips his phone back into his pocket and makes his way towards the door so he can jump out at his stop. Fortunately he knows his way home from here without having to think about it. The Saturday afternoon crowds dissolve away and all he can see is that name. 

Joshua Ackles.

He knows his mother contacted Josh, after Jared tracked down his number in California. He hasn’t had time to call her about it, to find out what happened. No, that’s not true. He’s been too apprehensive, and dealing with too much else here to know how to focus on that too. But now Josh has emailed him.

He doesn’t know how to feel. 

Josh’s desertion four years ago annihilated Jensen’s life. 

They weren’t even close to begin with, since Josh was everything Jensen was not, but now, after Jensen utterly failed to become a replacement for Josh in his parents’ lives....

Does Josh know he’s gay?

Does he know Jensen’s living with his gay lover in New York?

Jared’s in the kitchen with Jeff when he gets home, learning how to make something that involves kneading dough. “Hey, you’re back early!” He leans over to kiss Jensen hello, since his hands are covered with flour. “How was your day?”

“Good.” Jensen slides sideways into one of the chairs at the table. “Hi Jeff. What are you guys making?”

“I’m teaching your boy here how to make ravioli. You like spinach?”

Jensen does. “Sure. Jared, I’m impressed. You’ll be a real cook one of these days.”

Jared wrinkles his nose at him, but Jensen’s delighted to see that he’s blushing beneath the smudges of flour on his face. “Cooking’s more fun than I thought it would be. Especially for you.”

Jensen took his mother and Dianne cooking for him for granted, which he shouldn’t have, he knows, but he never questioned it. Where he grew up, the women did the cooking and fed their family. Knowing Jared comes from the same environment, it means a lot that he’s learning to cook specifically to feed Jensen. And enjoying it, if the little grins he keeps shooting Jensen’s way are anything to go by. “Do you need any help?”

“You sitting there looking pretty.”

Jeff glances over. “Yeah, works for me.”

There’s something oddly soothing about Jeff’s clear appreciation of the way Jensen looks. He’s upfront about it, doesn’t sneak lascivious looks when he thinks Jensen isn’t looking, and never tries anything inappropriate, doesn’t touch him or leer at him. His expression is warmly admiring, as though he’s enjoying a piece of art on the wall, perhaps, by an artist he knows well. 

Jensen discarded the sweaty overshirt he wore for rehearsals when he walked through the door. Beneath it he had on a fitted black t-shirt that he didn’t think anything of when he sat down, but now he pulls in a steadying breath and leans backwards against the wall, letting it tighten across his chest. 

The warmth in Jeff’s eyes intensifies. “Oh yeah,” he says comfortably, “it definitely works.” 

“Good boy,” Jared murmurs, which reminds Jensen that Jeff knows about their games. He knows that Jared is in charge, that Jensen belongs to him. That Jared could have Jensen show more off to Jeff, if he so desired. 

His stomach clenches. It was different at the club where he didn’t know the men looking at him, where they were a mass of intimidating strangers. He knows Jeff. Trusts him. 

Imagine if Jared did show more of him off to Jeff. Imagine if Jared told Jensen to strip off his shirt so Jeff could see his nipples, which are already responding to the attention. Jeff can see them hardening through his shirt. He’s looking, Jensen can tell. He knows being shown off is turning Jensen on. 

Imagine if Jared told him to take the rest of his clothes off, so Jeff could see what else is hardening. 

His jeans aren’t going to hide it for much longer, not if he keeps sitting here, silent and on display, while Jared and Jeff concentrate on their ravioli, glancing over now and then with appreciative eyes. 

He eases his legs apart. 

Both of them turn to look. 

“Wider, Jensen,” Jared says softly. His eyes ask if it’s all right, and in reply, Jensen obediently spreads them. 

Jeff winks, breaking the taut moment, and Jensen’s breath huffs out of him in a little sigh. It’s okay. It’s just a game. He’s just making himself more pleasurable for them both to look at. It feels good, knowing he’s giving them pleasure like that. There’s pride in Jared’s smile, like he’s pleased with Jensen for being brave enough to try this, and even if Jensen wasn’t enjoying this, it would be worth it purely for that. But he is enjoying it. His cock is swelling visibly between his legs, his breath coming shallow and fast, knowing they can see. He’s giving himself away, making himself vulnerable to them, and the knowledge writhes through his stomach, adding to the heat. 

Imagine if he were sitting here naked.

Imagine if Jared tied him here, open and on display. 

He has no idea how much time passes. Jared crosses the kitchen several times, getting things out of cupboards, opening the refrigerator, and each time he passes Jensen, he trails his fingers over some part of his body. Up the centre of his chest. Over his bare shoulder. Across his tight abs that the shirt is showing off. Twice he slides them through Jensen’s hair. The second time he pulls.

Jensen almost comes.

“Such a good boy,” Jared whispers at one point while Jeff’s busy at the stovetop. “Lettin’ Jeff enjoy you too.”

Jensen’s mouth is so dry he doesn’t think he could speak. He’s panting, probably flushed and sweating. He manages a jerky nod. 

“You okay with this?”

He looks down at his bulging jeans. Jared follows his eyes. 

“Oh, look at you, Jensen. So desperate.”

And Jared clearly has no intention of doing a thing about it. Why does that make Jensen even harder? 

“How’s he doing over there?” Jeff calls.

“He’s fine,” Jared says, raising his voice. He flicks Jensen’s left nipple, hard. “Gettin’ a bit hot and bothered.”

It’s like Jensen’s become a thing, no longer a person. Something to be looked at and talked about by the two men working in the kitchen. He tries to slow his panting, fighting for control. His hips automatically try to press up against the barrier of his jeans, frantic for something to rub his cock against. 

“No, no.” Of course Jared notices. “None of that.”

Jensen checks to see if Jeff’s watching. He is, his expression casual and relaxed as though this is perfectly normal. Maybe to him it is. He remembers their conversation right here at this very table a week ago about what Jeff would think of him if he were to witness Jensen submitting to Jared. _I’d think you were an 11_ , Jeff said, and that’s the way he looks now. There’s pride in his smile as well, like he’s pleased with Jensen for being willing to take this step in front of him. He’d stop this if he were uncomfortable with it, Jensen’s certain. 

“You gonna show Jeff how good you can be?” Jared asks. 

Jensen could stop this, too, if he wasn’t comfortable. Knowing that, trusting how perfectly safe he is with these two men, he nods. 

Jared leaves him there while they cook the ravioli. Occasionally he calls across an instruction to Jensen, such as, “Put your hands around the back the chair,” or, “Spread your legs further apart,” and Jensen’s in a state now where he’s no longer thinking, he automatically obeys. He feels suspended in time, arranged by external forces to be pleasing, as though his own will and personhood have faded away. There’s nothing to worry about, since he knows Jared will take care of him, and so will Jeff, if need be. He’s not responsible for any of it; they are. All he has to do is follow orders and let them look at him. 

Any time his mind wanders to the email he didn’t open on his phone, he redirects his attention back to Jared and Jeff, and soon it fades too. Everything disappears but the eyes of the men enjoying him. 

“Hey.” Jared’s crouched in front of him, hands resting on Jensen’s spread thighs. “Jensen, hey, look at me.”

Jensen blinks, trying to focus. “Hmm?”

“There you are. Hi there.”

He’s not sure if he’s allowed to speak, so he nods. 

“You ready to eat? Food’s done.”

He skipped lunch to attend an emergency meeting with Mark, Caroline, and the set designer, so he should be. The idea of eating feels very far away. 

“You want something to drink?” another voice asks.

Jeff. That’s Jeff. Of course, Jeff. Jeff and Jared, enjoying the spectacle of Jensen on display. 

The rest of the kitchen materialises around him. They were cooking, making Jensen’s dinner. Now it’s ready and they’re expecting him to eat it with them. As his awareness sharpens, a more pressing need than hunger alerts him. 

“Can I—um,” he breaks off, embarrassed. Is it appropriate for him to ask in this situation? Or just get up and go? “I need the bathroom,” he whispers to Jared. 

“Sure.” Jared squeezes his thighs before standing up. “Of course. Come back when you’re done. We’re ready to serve up.”

He reaches out to pull Jensen to his feet. It would feel wrong to let go of the back of the chair Jared earlier told him to grab if it weren’t for Jared holding out his hands in clear expectation of Jensen reaching for them. Jared keeps hold of him when he’s up, giving him a moment to steady himself. 

“You were so good,” he murmurs. “So gorgeous for me and Jeff. You okay now?”

“Yeah.” Jensen’s coming back to himself, the weird spacey feeling disintegrating. “Yeah, I’m good. Just kinda need—you know—to relieve myself.”

“No getting yourself off,” Jared warns. 

As if Jensen would, ever, without permission. “I know, Jay.” He’s still aroused, but settled into it, no longer desperate and needy. “I’m good. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“If you’re not, I’m comin’ to find you.”

Jensen can’t help but smile at the fierceness in Jared’s tone. “Almost enough to make me wait. But no, I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

“Good. Thank you, Jensen.”

He knows what Jared’s really thanking him for, and a pleased warmth floods through him. “Any time. You know that.”

***

Jared turns to Jeff the moment he hears the bathroom door close. “He started it.”

This afternoon, Jared consulted Jeff about Jensen’s issue with public play, asking for ideas how to ease Jensen into something he wanted but wasn’t sure how to have, and Jeff’s first and primary advice had been to never do anything without Jensen’s explicit consent. 

“I know,” he says mildly. “I was here.”

“And I checked with him. Several times.”

“I know,” Jeff says again. “Jared, relax. You did well.”

“Did I?” Jared’s so, so scared about this, feeling chills every time he thinks about Jensen talking about feeling like a two when other people watched him submit. “He was okay, right?” He shouldn’t be putting this responsibility on Jeff, but he’s wary to trust his own judgement when it’s this important. “He wasn’t just doing it for me?”

“Sit.” Jeff places a steadying hand on Jared’s arm as he paces across the kitchen, easing him into the seat Jensen’s left empty. “Calm down, he’ll be back in a minute. You’re fine, he’s fine, we’re all fine.”

Is this what it feels like when Jensen has a panic attack? Jared’s skin prickles and his chest heaves like he’s been running. “Fuck,” he says. “Oh, fuck, Jeff.”

“Shh.” Jeff rubs his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Why doesn’t Jared feel like it is? “Sorry,” he says belatedly. “I didn’t get your consent for that.”

Jeff laughs. It’s such a familiar sound that it immediately soothes Jared. “Jared, I gave my consent right at the start. You made an offhand comment. I know you didn’t mean it as Jensen should display himself for us, but I’m the one who made it into more, and then Jensen chose to run with it. I decided to let it happen, given our conversation earlier, and I figured you’d stop it if you didn’t like me being involved. But Jensen seemed comfortable and I thought this was a possibility to ease him into it that we hadn’t thought of.”

Yeah. Yeah, Jared’s thoughts followed the same path, especially when he saw how into it Jensen was getting. “Okay,” he says heavily. He’s panicking himself for nothing, it seems. “Just checking. I don’t want to expose you to stuff you don’t want to see.”

“Believe me,” Jeff says with a final squeeze to Jared’s shoulder before he moves back towards their ravioli waiting to be served, “I have no objection to seeing anything you two want to show me.”

Huh. Jared considers that. “Even if it’s no more than looking?”

“Jensen’s yours,” Jeff says easily. “I respect that. I respect him, too. This isn’t about me wanting him. I don’t, not like that.”

Jared knows about the man Jeff did want, the man he still loves even though he’s been dead for many years. Before Jensen, Jared couldn’t fathom being that faithful to a relationship that’s been no more than a memory for decades, but now he thinks he gets it. He’s not sure he’d be able to move on from Jensen; no one else could possibly ever measure up and it wouldn’t be fair. “I get that.”

“On the other hand, if you two want to practice on me, or just experiment around another person you know is safe, I’m not averse to that. My only requirements are that everyone’s comfortable with what’s going on, and any one of us can stop it at any time, if not.”

“I’ll talk to Jensen,” Jared says. The hallway’s still empty, so he has time to add, “Thanks, Jeff. And thanks for letting me talk about it. This is far more complicated than I realised it would be and I don’t want to mess Jensen up. Ever.”

“He’s in good hands with you. I’m proud of you, kid. Now go see where that boy of yours is and make sure he’s not getting up to what he shouldn’t be.”

Jensen isn’t, Jared’s pretty sure, but he’s happy to surge out of the chair and move again, shaking the worry out of his tense muscles. That was one of the hottest things they’ve done, all the more because of how into it Jensen was. He knows he can trust Jensen not to come illicitly, but he wants to makes sure he’s not regretting it. He’s right outside the bathroom when the door opens. 

“Oh,” Jensen says, pausing in the doorway. “Did I take too long?”

“No.” It’s tough, but Jared refrains from reaching for him. “I just missed you. How’re you doing?”

“The same as two minutes ago. I’m _fine_ , Jared.”

“Okay.” Jared leans back against the passage wall. “Just wanted to check since we hadn’t exactly okayed doing something like that. It’s still on the to-be-discussed list.” 

Alarm flares in Jensen’s eyes. “You didn’t like it?”

“No, I did. I loved it. Jeff did too. But I needed to make sure that it’s okay with you, involving him.”

“Is it okay with him?”

“Yes,” Jared reassures him. “He told me he’s fine if we want to use him to, like, practice with.”

Jensen nods, but he’s worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. “What about you? Are you okay with it?”

“With Jeff? Yeah, absolutely. But I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Oh good, there’s a glimpse of smile. “Did I look uncomfortable, Jared?”

“How’s your cock?”

“It’ll live,” Jensen says. He’s no longer visibly hard, when Jared checks. “I didn’t come,” he protests, seeing Jared’s look. “I was reminded of something that I’d—never mind. I’ll tell you later, after dinner. Let’s go eat.”

Now Jared wants to know, but he forces back the part of himself that resents any secret between him and Jensen and follows Jensen back to the kitchen where Jeff has served out their meal. Neither Zach nor Luke are home so it’s just the three of them, but there’s no hint of what happened earlier. Jeff sets the mood with a story about a disastrous gig he did earlier in the year, which leads to Jensen mentioning his own performance back in May and evolves into a technical discussion about guitar playing that Jared can’t follow. Not that he minds, content to watch the animation on Jensen’s face while remembering what he’d looked like sitting there on display, hands behind his back, as exposed as he could be while still fully dressed. 

Is he really willing to go further with Jeff there? Would he have removed his shirt, if Jared asked him to? What about more? Would he let Jared touch him in front of Jeff? Would he let Jared get him off while being watched? Or get Jared off? 

It’s overwhelming to think about. All of this still is, which is why Jared was asking Jeff about it this afternoon. It seemed so simple back at college, no more than the two of them making each other feel good, but even then it was more complex than he realised. And now they’re doing it officially, he can’t evade the extent of his responsibility towards Jensen. Jensen has put a hundred percent of his trust in Jared. Jared can’t ever let him down. That means he has to be on top of this, all of it, at all times. 

He spent this morning lying in bed rereading his notes from their checklist discussion, trying to wrap his mind around the entirety of it, seeking out the patterns of Jensen’s desires. One thing that struck him that hadn’t fully penetrated at the time was Jensen wanting to do things he doesn’t like purely because Jared does. That could so easily go wrong if Jared mishandles it. There’s a list of things Jensen mentioned that he’s willing to do despite finding them difficult or outright unpleasant, and several items are a match with Jared’s list of biggest turn-ons. The biggest turn-on, though, is the very act of it itself, of Jensen doing something he doesn’t like specifically to please Jared. 

Jared could so easily abuse that. 

Abuse Jensen.

He never wants that. Not ever. But how does he reconcile that inflexible determination with the way he longs to make Jensen cry, to hurt him and embarrass him and make him struggle to cope with what Jared’s inflicting on him? That’s what he really wanted to ask Jeff about this afternoon, but he didn’t know how to put it into words that didn’t make him sound like some kind of monster. 

“Right, boys, I’m off.” Jeff pushes back his chair. “You have the place to yourselves tonight. Have fun.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” Jensen calls when Jeff’s almost out the door. 

He ducks his head back inside. “Any time, kid. I mean it. Any time.” With a wink, he’s gone, and they hear the front door close behind him a couple of minutes later. 

“Strip,” Jared says before he knows he means to.

Jensen glances at the door. “What if he forgot something and comes back?” 

“How is that relevant to what I told you to do?”

“It’s....” Jensen catches on. “It isn’t.” 

“Right.”

“I haven’t finished eating.”

“And how is that rel—”

“It’s not,” Jensen says hurriedly. He pulls the t-shirt over his head and there it is, all that smooth golden skin Jared was fantasising about earlier. “All—you want me—everything?”

“Strip,” Jared repeats. 

Jensen stands up to pull down his jeans and boxers. “What if the other two come home?”

“They won’t.” He got a text from Luke during dinner to say he won’t be back until tomorrow night, and Zach’s at an all-night rave in New Jersey. “Spread your shirt on the floor beside me and kneel on it.” 

Jensen’s only eaten half of his dinner, too busy talking to concentrate on food, which serves Jared’s purpose perfectly. He’s beautiful on his knees. If Jared had his way, he’d keep him on them permanently at home. 

“Pass me your belt.”

Threading it around Jensen’s wrists, he secures them firmly behind his back the way he wanted to earlier. His own belt goes around Jensen’s ankles, then he attaches the two belts together. 

“How’s that? 

Jensen can’t move. He tugs several times, delight spreading across his face. “Excellent, thank you.”

Oh yeah, very excellent indeed. Being fed was on Jensen’s list of things he finds difficult but is willing to try. Of itself, Jared can take it or leave it, but it feels like something relatively simple to experiment with. It’s more of a kick than he remembers, having Jensen this entirely helpless; maybe he’s more into it than he thought. “Open your mouth.”

Jensen opens immediately, no hesitation, even though it’s clear what Jared’s planning. 

Carefully, Jared places a piece of ravioli on his tongue. “We’re gonna eat the rest of dinner like this. You comfortable?”

Jensen swallows before answering. “Yes.”

“I like you like this,” Jared can’t help saying, forking up another piece of ravioli and bringing it to Jensen’s lips. “Naked and helpless. On your knees. Obeying me.”

Jensen’s cock swells. 

“You like it, too. Don’t you?”

Still chewing, he nods. 

“Would you do this in front of Jeff?”

A flush darkens Jensen’s face, spreading down his neck to his chest, and he drops his eyes. 

“Jensen?”

“If you wanted me to.”

The throb in Jared’s gut is devastating. “How would it make you feel? Naked like that in front of him? On your knees. Bound and helpless?”

Jensen gets redder with each phrase. “Jared.”

“Do you want him to see you like this?”

Eyes drifting closed, as though he can block out what Jared’s asking him to face, Jensen shudders. “If you want him to.”

Jared doesn’t give a damn about Jeff one way or another, but the thought of Jensen voluntarily drowning in mortification because Jared wants him to—oh, fuck, yeah. “You’re just for me,” he says, remembering Jensen’s insistence on that during their checklist discussion. “You’re all mine. And what can I do with what’s mine?”

That gets Jensen’s eyes open again, huge and dark with arousal. “Whatever you want.”

“So I can show you off like this to Jeff if I want?”

“Yes.”

Oh, how Jared wants. But Jeff’s no longer here, so he feeds Jensen another piece of ravioli. It’s ideal for this purpose, he must remember that. “You were so good earlier,” he muses after finishing off the final pieces on his own plate. “So obedient and lovely, letting Jeff enjoy you like that. I was so proud of you.” 

Finishing chewing, Jensen automatically opens his mouth for the next piece. 

Because he can, Jared leaves him like that for a moment. “Since you were so good, I decided to give you a reward. You have until you’re finished eating to decide what you want.” That’s long enough, he decides, pleased when Jensen holds the position after Jared doesn’t immediately fill his mouth. There are several more pieces to go. He’s got the hang of the angle now, able to remove the fork without bumping Jensen’s teeth. “You can pick anything, Jen, whatever you want most tonight. For your information, in case it plays into your decision, if you don’t pick an orgasm, you’re not coming tonight. You’re allowed to pick that, though, if that’s what you want most.”

Three more pieces. Each time he waits a little longer after Jensen opens his mouth for the next one. The patience in Jensen’s eyes astounds him. He truly is content to wait like that, mouth open like a baby bird, until Jared decides to feed him again. 

How did Jared get this lucky?

“That’s the last one,” he informs Jensen once Jensen has it in his mouth. “Once you’re done, I want your choice of reward.”

It’s partly curiosity that has him doing this. He’s capable of choosing his own reward for Jensen, knows enough of what he likes to be reasonably sure of making a good choice, but he wants to know what Jensen will choose. He’ll be surprised if it’s an orgasm, despite how desperate he must be to come. 

“So?” he asks when Jensen swallows. “What do you want?”

“For you to fuck my throat. In here. Like this.”

That would not have been first on Jared’s potential reward list, but it probably should have been. “Where anyone could come in and see you?”

Even though Jensen knows it’s an empty threat, he shivers. “Yeah. Like you could have done earlier.” He sucks in a breath. “In front of Jeff. Shown him how good I can be for you. How well I can take you. How use—” He stumbles over the word. “How useful I can be.”

Jared doesn’t know how he’s going to last long enough to make it worthwhile for Jensen. “You’re very useful, baby. Such warm, tight holes for me to fuck.”

Jensen’s breath catches. Jared loves the way he thrills to being talked to like this. 

He pats Jensen’s head gently. “You’re gonna stay there for me while I clean up, waiting until I’m ready for you. I want your mouth open like when I was feeding you, waiting for me to feed you your reward. It’s fine if you drool. It’ll make it easier for me to fuck you, so don’t swallow. The next thing you swallow will be me. Understand?”

Jensen’s mouth is already open, wider than before, lips stretching painfully apart the way they’ll have to over Jared’s cock. 

Such a good boy.

It hurts, but he draws out cleaning up, hand washing the dishes and drying them with a cloth rather than leaving them to drip dry, stripping the table, wiping down all the surfaces, trying to focus on the tasks rather than on the man tied up and waiting for him. If this is Jensen’s chosen reward, Jared needs to make it worth it for him. 

He starts gently, pushing into Jensen’s waiting mouth lazily as though he feels no urgency. It’s Saturday night and he’s had dinner and now he’s relaxing by dipping his cock into the hot, wet throat that’s available for him to use at his leisure. He stays where he knows it’s easy for Jensen to take him, right at the edge of the opening to Jensen’s throat. Jensen’s learned to control his spasms here, and his eyelids flutter. 

“That’s right,” Jared tells him, voice as easy as the pressure. “Close your eyes. I don’t need to see you. Just be open for me to use.”

He loves seeing the ripple across Jensen’s skin when he can’t contain his physical response to Jared’s words. He lets the pleasure of it seep through him, fanning the heat he managed to bank while cleaning up, and, when he can no longer hold out, surges forward, straight down Jensen’s throat. 

Oh yeah, this. This, oh fuck, yeah. He loves burying himself in Jensen’s ass, but there’s something that drives him wild about claiming Jensen’s throat. It’s like he’s taking Jensen over entirely, not just a part of his body but Jensen himself as his mouth splits apart and he becomes entirely a receptacle for Jared’s cock. Nothing about Jensen matters right now except the way he feels around Jared’s cock, the way his throat sucks Jared in and convulses around him, an intrusion where there shouldn’t be one, and he’s choking and gargling because Jared’s no longer going easy, he’s shoving into that throat as deeply as he can, because he can, because it’s his, because Jensen is perfect and wonderful and loves Jared taking him this way, and Jared can’t imagine what it feels like, being impaled like this, thoroughly invaded by the body of another person, taken over and used heedlessly for their pleasure. He grips Jensen’s hair, digging his fingers into the back of his head and forcing him forward so his face slams against Jared’s pelvis with every thrust. “Yeah, baby,” he gasps, “like that, so open for me, just what I need.”

Harder, harder, he’s no longer in control of his hips, they’re going wild against Jensen’s face, his Jensen, his beloved boy—and Jared manages to pull back at the last second because he wants to come on Jensen’s face, wants to paint his ownership all over him, and knows how much Jensen loves that too. 

“JaredJaredJared,” Jensen gasps as the Jared’s come spurts across his skin. “Jared-Ican’t-helpme-Jared!”

Oh, oh fuck, Jensen’s coming, completely untouched and against orders. His eyes fly open, come looped over his eyelashes and it’s gonna burn him but he looks so distraught he doesn’t care. 

“Jared!” he cries despairingly, and Jared drops to his knees on the kitchen tile and, hand wrapped around Jensen’s cock, takes him through it. 

“Yeah, baby, it’s okay, come for me.”

Dropping his head against Jared’s shoulder, like he can’t hold it up any longer, Jensen comes. And comes and comes. 

“Oh, baby, look at you. That’s it, come, baby, just like that. You’re so fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

“Jay.” Jensen’s panting, body heaving for breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay. I’ll punish you for it later.” He feels like he should reward Jensen, but he knows how Jensen’s mind works. “Just let yourself feel good now. You should feel good. You made me feel so fucking good, Jen, you have no idea.”

“Love you using me,” Jensen says much later, as their breathing slowly evens out. He still has his face buried in Jared’s shoulder. “Just taking me like that.” He nuzzles against Jared’s shirt. “’s what I wanted at the start. Remember? When I kept choking? This is what I wanted to give you, and I remembered that and now I can, and—and I couldn’t stop myself.”

Is it possible to burst from pride in another person? “I have to be honest,” he says, bending to press a kiss into Jensen’s hair. “I love that that made you come so hard you couldn’t control yourself. That’s really fuckin’ satisfying.”

Jensen laughs, ragged and hoarse. “I think you used up all my ability not to come from you fucking me last night.”

It truly is satisfying to make Jensen break his iron control, to make him come against his will, come when he’s striving his hardest not to. But he knows it will bother Jensen if he doesn’t set it right. “Let me untie you, babe, and then I’ll give you your punishment.”

It takes a while. Jensen’s limbs have gone numb, so Jared carries him to the bedroom and rubs them gently while Jensen writhes on the bed as the blood floods back into them. He did it too tightly, he thinks. Or for too long. He needs to do more research into bondage, since Jensen’s so into it, to make sure he doesn’t cause any long-term damage. It’s not acceptable to get carried away by the moment and do something potentially harmful. 

So much to think about.

He fetches a damp cloth to wipe Jensen’s face clean of come and spit and tears, then spreads him over his lap for a punishment spanking. He does it hard enough that he elicits helpless sobs, but builds it up carefully so he knows Jensen’s feeling mostly pleasure. A boy who comes from sucking cock should be rewarded, even if coming was forbidden. That’s Jared’s viewpoint, anyway. 

Punishment over, he hustles them both into the shower, cold at first to ensure Jensen doesn’t disobey again, then settles them in bed to watch a movie on Jensen’s laptop. Jensen’s quiet, letting Jared move him around, only rousing himself to use the bathroom on his own, and Jared gets the impression he’s not focused much on the movie. Neither is Jared, but it’s a convenient excuse for them to lie together, drifting through the peaceful aftermath of their earlier activities. 

The movie’s nearly finished when Jensen says, “My brother emailed me.”

Jared reaches over to hit pause. “Josh?”

“Yeah.”

So this is what’s been preoccupying him. “When? Today?”

“Yeah. I, uh, was reading it in the bathroom before dinner. That’s why I took so long.” He resituates himself against Jared, eyes trained on the frozen picture of the paused movie. “I saw it on the subway but waited to read it until I got home, but then....”

His voice trails off, but Jared knows what happened when he got home. He moves too, trying to make it seem like an accident when he lands a hand comfortingly over Jensen’s thigh. “Is this the first you’ve heard from him?” 

“Mm.”

With Jensen not offering much, Jared isn’t sure how much to push. Does Jensen want to be prodded into talking about it? Is it better to give him space to work his way up to speaking? “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“He’s coming here.”

“To New York?”

Jensen’s chest rises with a deep breath that he holds for longer than Jared’s comfortable with. “For postgrad,” he says, exhaling. “Same place as you.”

“He’s moving here?” Shit, really? 

“Arriving at the end of the month.” Jensen takes another deep, controlled breath. Please don’t let this mean he’s panicking inside and trying to hide it. “He wants me to call him. Gave me his cell number.”

“Are you going to?”

“He talked to my mom. I don’t know if she told him. You know. About me.”

The little Jared knows about Josh includes the fact he ran off to California with his vegan girlfriend because he didn’t want to be trapped in the Dallas lifestyle Jensen has now rejected too. Hopefully that means he’s more of an open-minded type. Josh rescued Jensen from a drug raid, Jared remembers. He might have left, but it seems like he loved his little brother. “Are you going to tell him?” 

Jensen huffs a laugh. “What do I say? ‘Dear Josh, nice to hear from you after four years, guess what, I’m gay and living with my boyfriend, you’re welcome around any time’?”

“Sure, why not?”

“At least that gets it out of the way, right?” Jensen laughs again, but there’s no humour in it. His head falls back against the headboard. “For some reason I thought coming out was a thing you did once. One and done. I didn’t realise I’d have to do it over and over again.”

Jared’s choice has always been to be as obvious as he can, and state it outright as soon as possible. But, of course, that drive to be in-your-face gay was in direct opposition to his parents, and now he’s no longer letting them rule his behaviour he doesn’t feel that same need to shock, to outrage, to force immediate acceptance or rejection from people. “It would be nice if nothing about sexuality was assumed,” he comments. “If people didn’t automatically think you were straight unless you said otherwise.”

“It would be nice if nobody cared,” Jensen says quietly. “If it made no difference and the only people it mattered to were the ones in your bed.”

“One,” Jared corrects, because he can’t help himself. “Only one in your bed.”

This time humour shades Jensen’s laugh. “And only one in yours. Only me for you.” 

Jared never wants anyone else. “And only me for you.”

“Unless you want to share me.”

That hits hard. How does he reconcile the two, the way Jensen is his exclusively but also the way he loved showing Jensen off to Jeff earlier? “Are you really okay with that? With doing stuff with Jeff? Doin’ it for real?”

“Jared.” Pulling away, Jensen sits up, facing Jared and looking him straight in the eye. “I loved it. You saw me. I will tell you if I don’t like something, I promise.”

“It didn’t make you feel like—like you told me you did in the club?”

“No.” Jensen’s head shakes to emphasise it. “I trust him. I feel safe with him. He doesn’t want to—you know, to _have_ me like the guys in the club did. He knows I’m yours and he respects that. He would never do a single thing you didn’t let him and you’d never let him do anything I didn’t want.”

“What if I let him fuck you?”

He watches the words impact Jensen like a shockwave. His eyes glaze over for a moment and his breath hitches. 

“I’m not sayin’ I would. I just need to know your boundaries, how far you want to go with this. What you’re comfortable with.”

Jensen doesn’t answer immediately, which Jared appreciates. He keeps eye contact, though. “If that’s what you wanted,” he says after a minute of contemplation. “I’m not—it’s not that he’s not an attractive man; he is. But I’m not personally attracted to him, you know? I don’t look at him and want to feel him inside me. You’re the only person I feel like that about. But if you wanted that, if you wanted to see me get fucked by him because it gets you hot, then I’d do it.” His mouth pulls tight with frustration. “It’s hard to talk about this because the words aren’t right. How do I say I don’t want to do it but I do want to if you want me to?”

“Those words are good.” Jared isn’t sure how he feels himself. “Would it make you feel like you were cheating on me, fucking him?”

“No.” Jensen answers immediately, but then considers. “No,” he repeats, “not if you were there, watching.”

“What if I was somewhere else? What if you had the day off and I was at school and I left you tied to the bed and told him he could fuck you whenever he wanted while I was gone?”

There’s that telltale shiver running through Jensen’s body, but he says, “I don’t know. The idea of it is hot, but—I don’t—maybe in reality it wouldn’t be. It’s one of those things where the fantasy might be better, you know? Like you talking about it while you’re fucking me, telling me you’re gonna do that, gonna leave me tied up all day and available for use by whoever you decide. That’s....” He gives a little wriggle on the bed. “Yeah, tell me stuff like that, okay?”

If it elicits a reaction like this, Jared definitely will. 

“But in reality, I don’t know. It might feel bad, and I couldn’t tell you because you wouldn’t be there.”

“Jeff would stop if you told him to.”

“Yeah. He would. Even so. I think, at least for now, I don’t want to do anything with anyone else unless you’re there and I’m doing it for you to watch. For your pleasure. Because that’s what I’m for. Remember?”

Jared most certainly hasn’t forgotten. “You’ve been very pleasurable for me tonight.”

“Good.” Now Jensen looks smug. It’s a good look on him. “Can I warm your cock for a bit? I wasn’t watching the movie, but you were, so can I warm your cock while you finish watching?”

Cock-warming seems to be Jensen’s version of a comfort blanket, Jared has noticed. “Sure, babe. I’d like that. Never-ending source of pleasure, you are.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Settling between Jared’s legs, Jensen pushes them apart to make room for himself and eases Jared’s cock out from his sweats. “Looks like you enjoyed that conversation we just had,” he observes. 

“I like you wanting to do stuff for me,” Jared confesses. “Even stuff you don’t really want. You wanting to do it anyway, for _me_ —yeah.”

“Good,” Jensen says again. “Because I will. Now, do you want me to suck you or just warm your cock?”

If Jensen can deny himself so often, Jared can learn a little self-discipline too. “Just keep me warm in your mouth. Don’t get me any harder. Yeah. Like that. Perfect.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Who We Are](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24359512) by [Ainis_Adr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainis_Adr/pseuds/Ainis_Adr)




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